il  Siiilli;' 


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mrmy.\ 


Lieut.  E  J 


■itfcp.imti?i 


R.RC. 


Lieut.  E.  M.  Roberts,  R.F.C. 


A 
FLYING  FIGHTER 

An  American  above 
the  Lines  in  France 


BY 
LiEtJT.  E.  M.  ROBERTS,  R.F.C. 

Formerly  of  the  Tenth   Canadian  Battalion 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER  y  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 


A  Flying  Fighter 


Copyright.  1918.  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

Published  March,  1918 


To 

The  memoby  of 

CAPTAIN  E.  A.  BUENEY 

Balled  in  action  on  the  Somme 

July,  1916 


aftr?nRn 


For  I  dipt  into  the  future^  far  as  human  eye  could 

seCy 
Saw  the  Vision  of  the  world,  and  all  the  wonder 

that  would  he; 
Saw  the  heavens  fill  with   commercey   argosies  of 

magic  sails. 
Pilots  of  the  purple  twilight,  dropping  down  with 

costly  bales; 
Heard  the   heavens  fill  with   shouting,    and  there 

rained  a  ghastly  dew 
From   the   nation  s   airy   navies  grappling   in   the 

central  blue; 
Far  along  the  world-wide  whisper  of  the  south  wind 

rushing  warm. 
With  the  standards  of  the  peoples  plunging  thro* 

the  thunder-storm; 
Till   the   war-drum    throbbed   no    longer,    and   the 

battle-flags  were  furled. 
In  the  Parliament  of  man,  the  Federation  of  the 

world, 
— From  "  Locksley  Hall,"  hy  Alfreb  Tennyson. 


Digitized  by  tiie  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.archive.org/details/flyingfigliterameOOrobericli 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    A  Start  at  Soldiering i 

II    Getting  Near  the  Front    .    .    .    .  i6 

III  Gassed 26 

IV  Sped  by  Machine  Guns 36 

V    Running  the  Gauntlet    ....  47 

VI    Wounded  Again 65 

VII    Joining  the  Flying  Corps    ....  80 

VIII    My  First  Flight 97 

IX    My  First  Hun 112 

X    My    Commission 124 

XI    Battering  the  Hun 138 

XII    "Pizz"  AND  "Randie" 147 

XIII  Daredevils 162 

XIV  The  Big  Push 175 

XV    Learning  to  Fly 201 

XVI    Stunts  and  Accidents 226 

XVII    Air  Battles  over  the  Lines    .    .    .  245 

XVIII    Back  to  Blighty 267 

XIX    Old  Times  and  New 287 

XX    Meeting  the  King 299 

XXI    In  the  Clouds 320 

APPENDIX 

Just  Flying  Man's  Talk 333 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Lieut.  E.  M.  Roberts,  R.F.C 

An  English  Recruiting  Poster 

Thirty-five  Hundred  Loaves  of  Bread  for  the 
Boys 

Author  as  Despatch  Rider 

At  Home      

Awaiting  Orders 

Good  Pals   

A  Slight  Mishap 

City  of  Albert,  France,  Taken  from  Seventy- 
five  Hundred  Feet  with  Machine  on  Ver- 
tical Bank 

Slightly  Nose-heavy 

Ready  for  Action 

The  Pilot 

Helmet  Worn  by  Author  When  Wounded  in 
the  Battle  of  the  Somme,  July  2, 1916     .    . 

Inside  Out,  Showing  Where  Pieces  Went  In, 
and  Blood     

Prom  Left  to  Right:  Bullet  Lodged  in  Gasoline 
Tank  at  Thirty-six  Hundred  Feet. — Shrap- 
nel Ball  Which  Went  Through  Carbureter 
AT  Twenty  Thousand  Feet. — ^Tappet  Rod 
Which  Burst  at  Seven  Thousand  Feet. — 
Bullet  Which  Struck  Author  in  Side 

Shot  Down  from  Ten  Thousand  Feet 

A  Bad  Landing  in  a  Heavy  Gale    .    . 

Leaving  for  the  Lines 

12A  Bombing  and  Fighting  Plane    .    . 

A  Squadron  of  Single-seated  Fighters 

A  Pair  of  Birds,  Author  and  Machine 


Frontispiece 
Facing  p.    40 

40 
40 
124 
124 
124 
124 

154 
154 

196 
196 


196 
262 
262 
316 
316 
328 
328 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 

Although  Lieutenant  Roberts's  modest 
preface  makes  little  reference  to  the  exploits 
which  he  has  lived  through,  the  readers  of 
the  extraordinary  story  which  follows  may 
care  to  know  a  few  personal  facts  at  the  out- 
set. It  was  in  1914  that  this  adventurous 
young  American  enlisted,  and  it  was  early  in 
1915  that  he  reached  the  Western  Front.  It 
was  not  until  November,  1917,  that  he  re- 
turned to  this  country.  In  that  time  he  won 
his  commission  and  more  than  won  the  air- 
fighter's  title  of  Ace,  for  in  his  battles  he 
has  brought  down  not  merely  five  but  seven 
Huns.  His  victories  did  not  leave  him  un- 
scathed. He  was  wounded  four  times  in  mid- 
air, once  at  the  Battle  of  the  Somme.  And 
certainly  after  such  service  there  is  a  story 
to  tell  which,  as  it  seems  to  those  who  have 
known  it,  has  not  been  equaled  in  its  own  field 
for  intensely  human  interest  and  dramatic 
quality. 


PEEFACE 

This  is  the  story  of  three  years  of  active 
service  on  the  Western  Front,  most  of  the 
time  in  the  Flying  Corps.  I  hope  that  the 
story  will  interest  readers.  If  not,  it  cer- 
tainly will  not  be  the  fault  of  my  experiences 
in  themselves. 

The  leaders  of  the  Allied  forces  in  Europe 
have  realized  long  since  that  air  service  is 
one  of  the  premier  branches  of  the  military 
establishment.  The  aerial  observer  has  come 
to  be  the  eyes  of  the  army.  It  is  he  who 
often  brings  the  first  news  that  the  enemy 
is  getting  ready  for  an  offensive.  Upon  him 
the  commanders  rely  for  information  as  to 
all  movements  behind  the  enemy  lines.  The 
aerial  observer  directs  the  fire  of  his  artil- 
lery, and,  finally,  when  the  men  go  over  the 
top,  he  is  often  the  sole  means  of  communica- 
tion between  headquarters  and  the  firing  line. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  enemy  is  not 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

in  ignorance  of  the  great  service  rendered  by 
the  airman.  To  cripple  that  service  as  much 
as  possible  he  sends  np  his  own  aviators, 
especially  when  his  anti-aircraft  batteries, 
have  failed  him.  It  is  then  that  the  man  aloft 
is  called  upon  to  defend  himself  as  well  as. 
those  on  the  ground,  to  whom  he  is  giving  the 
best  that  is  in  him.  Then  comes  the  aerial 
duel.  And  in  most  cases  one  of  the  com- 
batants crashes  to  the  ground — it  has  been  his 
last  flight. 

These  are  the  things  which  I  have  set  down 
here. 

But  I  have  not  overlooked  the  humorous 
side  of  the  airman's  life.  After  nerve-rack- 
ing hours  in  the  air  the  necessity  for  relaxa- 
tion is  great,  and  then  he  generally  applies 
himself  to  that  with  the  same  vigor  that 
marks  his  conduct  while  on  duty.  Ours  is  a 
short  life,  so  why  not  make  the  most  of  it 
while  it  lasts?  That  is  the  axiom  of  all  bird- 
men. 

But  while  there  are  plenty  of  thrills  in 
this  fighting  in  the  air,  I  have  not  written 
solely  for  the  purpose  of  entertainment.  My 
three  years  at  the  Front  have  made  me  realize- 


PEEFACE 

more  than  ever  that  the  Great  War  is  not 
yet  won.  It  has  been  said  a  thousand  times 
that  this  is  not  simply  a  War  between  armies. 
Since  my  return  from  the  battleground  I  have 
asked  myself  the  question:  To  what  extent 
does  the  American  public  realize  that  the 
World  War  is  a  titanic  struggle  between  all 
the  economic  resources  and  forces  of  the 
nations  involved  rather  than  simply  a  war 
between  the  fighting  armies? 

I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Ameri- 
cans generally  do  not  recognize  this  in  spite 
of  the  introduction  of  meatless  and  wheatless 
days  and  coal  saving.  The  reason  seems  to  be 
that  we  are  too  far  away.  We  are  handi- 
capped by  distance.  So  far  the  United  States 
has  only  begun  to  feel  the  War,  as  its  effects 
are  measured  in  European  countries.  Let 
us  hope  that  realization  of  the  War's  mean- 
ing and  responsibilities  will  become  general 
before  it  is  forced  home  by  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  casualties.  Efficient  preparation 
will  prevent  losses  in  the  end. 

E.  M.  E. 

New  York,  February,  1918. 


CHAPTER  I 


A  START  AT  SOLDIEBmG 


An  American,  born  in  the  city  of  Dn- 
luth,  Minnesota,  I  had  inherited  a  love  of 
adventure  which  asserted  itself  strongly 
while  I  was  yonng.  When  a  lad  ten  years  old, 
I  ran  away  from  home  and  started  ont  to  see 
the  Great  Northwest  and  make  my  own  way 
in  the  world.  And  since  that  time  the  greater 
part  of  my  schooling  has  been  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Hard  Knocks.  A  great  many  of  my 
companions  were  men  made  famous  by  Jack 
London  in  his  works;  indeed.  Jack  himself 
was  a  good  friend  of  mine,  having  done  me 
many  a  good  turn ;  in  fact,  he  once  saved  my 
life. 

After  leaving  home,  I  was  attracted  by  the 
woods  and  took  up  lumbering.  But  after  an 
accident  in  a  sawmill,  I  had  to  give  it  up. 

1 


'•' ''  THEitCYING  FIGHTER 

Theil' Crosses  .the,  border  over  into  Canada 
and  from  that  time  on  I  took  np  anything  and 
everything.  I  went  into  mining,  then  I  went 
into  the  antomobile  game.  Then  I  tried  rail- 
road construction  work,  cow-pnnching,  sheep- 
raising,  and  when  war  broke  ont  I  was  np  in 
the  foothills  of  the  Rockies  drilling  for  oil. 
It  will  seem  incredible  when  I  say  that  the 
Battle  of  the  Marne  and  the  first  battle  of 
Ypres  were  matters  of  history  before  I  knew 
that  there  was  a  war,  and  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  civilized  world  was  arrayed 
against  Germany  and  German  Militarism.  In 
October,  1914,  I  started  from  the  plains  for 
a  short  visit  to  Calgary.  On  my  way  I  had 
to  catch  a  train  at  Okotokos,  where  I  had 
bought  a  steak  which  was  wrapped  up  in  a 
newspaper.  Butchers  and  customers  in  that 
country  were  not  particular  in  matters  of 
hygiene.  I  saved  the  paper  to  read,  for  I  had 
been  away  from  all  settlements  for  some 
weeks  and  had  heard  nothing  of  the  War.  The 
headlines  broke  the  news  to  me  that  Germany 
had  taken  it  upon  herself  to  decide  the  ques- 
tions of  the  day  by  the  sword.  It  struck  me 
that  this  would  provide  the  excitement  I  had 
2 


A  STAKT  AT  SOLDIERING 

been  looking  for.  But  I  little  thought  when 
I  first  saw  those  headlines  that  from  that 
time  on  my  fate  would  be  in  the  hands  of  des- 
tiny and  that  the  breaking  of  log  jams  on  the 
Five  Miles  Rapids  in  the  Mississippi,  service 
with  the  Sheriff's  posse  chasing  cattle  thieves, 
and  shootups  in  the  barrooms  of  cow  towns 
where  half  the  participants  were  killed  would 
all  be  like  pink  teas  compared  with  what  lay 
before  me  on  the  Western  Front  of  the  Great 
War. 

I  had  come  to  Okotokos  for  the  purpose  of 
having  a  couple  of  days  in  which  to  clear  up 
some  freight  which  lay  in  the  yards.  In  spite 
of  that,  I  soon  found  myself  on  the  way  to 
Calgary,  where  I  figured  on  having  a  few  days 
with  friends  whom  I  had  not  seen  in  a  long 
time.  I  had  come  ninety  miles  from  my  camp, 
making  the  trip  in  a  day  and  a  half  in  my 
eagerness  to  see  town. 

At  Calgary  I  met  an  old  friend  of  mine 
called  Ross,  but  known  to  his  intimates  as 
**The  Fish,"  from  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
native  of  Nova  Scotia.  We  shook  hands  and 
sailed  a  few  schooners  across  the  bar  of  the 
good  hostelry  where  I  had  put  up.    The  only 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

thing  we  talked  of  was  the  War.  ' '  The  Fish*' 
told  me  there  had  been  a  call  that  morning 
for  some  two  or  three  hundred  men  for  service 
in  Europe,  and  he  added,  ** Let's  join."  I 
said,  *' Jake,"  meaning  all  right,  as  that  was 
exactly  what  I  expected  to  hear  from  Fish,  for 
I  knew  him  to  be  an  adventurer  and  a  good 
fellow.  And  though  neither  of  us  had  ever 
soldiered  a  day  in  his  life,  we  made  up  our 
nciinds  to  join  the  forces  that  were  being  raised 
if  they  would  have  us.  We  spent  the  greater 
part  of  that  night  talking  war  and  killing  a 
few  regiments  of  Huns  over  the  cup  that 
cheers. 

Next  morning  the  papers  were  fuU  of  what 
the  Germans  were  doing  in  Belgium  and  that 
increased  our  determination  to  enlist.  We 
were  a  little  cautious,  however,  and  before 
starting  for  the  recruiting  place  we  looked  up 
a  friend  and  had  him  explain  to  us  the  for- 
malities that  would  have  to  be  gone  through. 
The  only  advice  'he  could  give  was  that  if  we 
didn't  hurry  up,  it  might  be  all  over  before 
we  enlisted.  This  was  quite  enough  and  in- 
side of  two  hours  I  was  a  member  of  the  Tenth 
Canadian  Infantry  Battalion. 
4 


A  STAET  AT  SOLDIERING 

After  taking  a  look  at  the  barracks  I 
thought  it  no  more  than  prudent  to  straighten 
ont  my  personal  affairs.  My  boss,  an 
American  by  the  name  of  Saunders,  thought  I 
was  crazy  and  said  so. 

**  Before  you  get  over  there,  the  war  wiH 
be  over,''  he  said. 

**  And  before  it  is  over  you  will  get  into  it," 
I  returned. 

I  cannot  recall  now  whether  I  meant  that 
or  not,  but,  as  the  saying  goes,  many  a  true 
word  is  spoken  in  jest.  Ten  months  later,  Mr. 
Saunders  had  taken  up  recruiting  work  for 
the  Canadian  Government,  being  too  old  for 
service  in  France. 

As  a  parting  present  he  gave  me  a  box  of 
cigars,  together  with  the  good  advice  one  gen- 
erally hands  out  to  a  young  man  about  to 
become  a  soldier. 

I  returned  to  the  barracks  and  did  my  best 
to  find  military  life  agreeable.  While  the 
call  issued  had  been  for  three  hundred  men, 
at  the  most,  about  seven  hundred  actually 
volunteered,  so  that  I  thought  myself  lucky 
to  have  been  accepted. 

The  officer  in  charge  of  the  barracks  knew 
5 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

me  quite  well.  He  also  knew  of  my  familiar- 
ity with  mechanics,  and  for  that  reason  caused 
me  to  be  transferred  to  a  mechanical  trans- 
port section.  I  cannot  say  that  this  pleased 
me  greatly.  That  job  seemed  a  little  too  tame. 
At  any  rate  I  thought  that  my  days  in  the 
zone  of  danger  were  over  then  and  there. 
Later,  however,  I  was  to  find  out  that  this  was 
a  very  premature  conclusion,  especially  when 
trench  warfare,  and  warfare  of  several  other 
kinds,  came  to  be  my  daily  lot. 

I  managed  to  get  my  pal,  **The  Fish,'* 
transferred  with  me,  and  that  helped  both  of 
us  to  get  over  the  rude  shock  to  which  our 
great  enthusiasm  had  been  subjected.  The 
day  after  enlisting  we  were  sent  in  a  west- 
ern draft  column  to  Valcartier,  Quebec. 
Henceforth,  **fours  right"  and  ** fours  left'' 
got  to  be  all  there  was  in  life. 

**Evoluting''  on  the  camp  ground  gave  me 
a  new  opinion  of  military  life.  I  could  not 
see  why  on  earth  we  had  to  do  all  this  when 
they  wanted  men  in  France.  Of  course,  I  had 
a  hazy  notion  that  discipline  was  necessary, 
and  that  I  should  not  call  the  Colonel 
*  *  George ' '  on  parade.   But  why  all  this  walk- 

6 


A  START  AT  SOLDIERING 

ingi  My  idea  of  warfare  was  to  fight  from 
tree  to  tree  and  rock  to  rock  in  the  manner 
which  once  was  famous  in  the  West.  I  knew 
nothing  of  trenches  and  cannot  say  that  I 
cared  to  know  anything  about  them.  My 
vision  of  handling  shovels  was  too  closely  as- 
sociated with  railroad  building  and  mining, 
I  have  done  pick  and  shovel  work  in  my  time 
and  it  seems  to  be  an  excellent  occupation  for 
men  with  weak  minds  and  strong  backs.  But 
not  for  me. 

However,  they  have  the  knack  of  shatter- 
ing dreams  around  military  camps.  Mine 
went  with  the  rest,  but  the  cause,  for  which 
I  had  enlisted,  seemed  so  good  that  I  resolved 
to  put  into  practice  the  meaning  of  the  motto 
— Everything  is  worth  trying  once.  More- 
over, soldiering  did  not  seem  so  very  uninter- 
esting, despite  its  routine  and  restrictions. 
Finally,  here  was  the  chance  of  seeing  a  new 
country. 

Weeks  and  weeks  of  training  were  our  lot. 
It  was  a  case  of  getting  up  at  5 :30  in  the  morn- 
ing in  temperatures  that  seemed  to  stay  more 
or  less  around  30  degrees  below  zero.  After 
getting  up  we  would  run  several  times  around 

7 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

a  race  track  for  exercise,  have  breakfast,  and 
then  spend  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in 
similar  body  and  mind  hardening  work.  I 
"will  confess  that  had  I  known  what  was  in 
store  for  me  no  team  of  horses  could  have 
dragged  me  into  an  army.  My  idea  had  been 
that  I  should  be  given  a  uniform  and  a  gun; 
then  I  would  sit  down  and  wait  for  orders 
to  sail  to  France  and  get  into  the  thick  of  it. 
Some  of  the  boys  grumbled  a  little  at  the 
delay,  but  in  the  end  we  all  made  up  our 
minds  that  now  we.  were  in  it  there  was  noth- 
ing to  do  but  stick  to  it  and  hope  for  the 
best.  The  first  seven  years  would  be  the 
worst,  said  some  kind  people,  intending  to  be 
facetious. 

But  all  things  come  to  an  end,  and  so  did 
the  eternal  setting-up  drills  at  the  camp. 
Finally  I  got  a  job  driving  one  of  the  heavy 
motor  trucks,  known  in  the  British  Army  as 
a  '* lorry."  Not  very  long  after  that  I  was 
made  a  sergeant  in  a  mechanical  transport 
section  and  sent  to  Toronto,  Ontario,  to  train 
with  the  Second  Division. 

This  transfer  was  not  what  I  had  been 
looking  for.    I  had  hoped  to  stay  in  the 

8 


A  STAET  AT  SOLDIERING 

mobile  army  and  get  some  fighting  in  the 
line.  But  people  had  a  knack  of  remember- 
ing that  I  knew  a  little  about  the  automobile, 
and  in  Canada  such  men  were  rare. 

The  order  came  that  all  Americans  were 
to  be  ousted  from  the  army.  But  the  Com- 
manding Officer  called  the  Americans  to- 
gether and  asked  us  if  we  wanted  to  take  our 
discharge  or  not.  One  man  did  this  but  the 
rest  of  us  stayed.  We  were  required  to  sign 
new  attestation  papers,  but  before  we  could 
do  that,  we  had  to  select  some  particular  part 
of  Canada  as  our  nominal  birth  place.  I 
stated  that  I  was  born  in  Sasalta,  Alberta. 
Another  man  said  that  he  hailed  from  To- 
ronto— in  fact,  none  of  us  had  any  trouble 
finding  fictitious  places  of  birth  in  the  Do- 
minion until  it  came  to  Tom  Kelly,  of  Chi- 
cago, who  had  given  the  matter  no  thought. 
To  the  officer  who  questioned  him,  he  said 
that  he  was  bom  in  Beansville.  The  officer 
wanted  to  know  where  Beansrille  was  located, 
and  Kelly  replied: 
"Oh,  somewhere  in  Fish  Country. '' 
The  officer  promptly  put  down  Beansville, 
Nova  Scotia,  and  everything  was  in  order. 

9 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I  didn't  drive  the  lorry  very  long  after 
that,  being  set  to  work  to  initiate  recruits  into 
''fours  right  and  left/'  ** sections  and  half- 
sections/'  and  the  like.  When  not  occupied 
with  drill  I  would  take  a  turn  as  orderly 
(dog)  sergeant  of  the  day,  mount  guard  at 
night,  and  see  that  everything  was  clean  and 
ship-shape  in  the  little  zone  that  was  mine,  in 
order  to  please  the  ojficer  of  the  day  when  he 
did  his  rounds. 

There  was  also  a  great  deal  of  clerical  work 
to  do.  I  had  to  write  all  the  passes  for  the 
men  getting  leave  to  go  into  town.  With 
that  came  responsibilities,  which  often  were 
irksome.  The  passes  for  the  men  had  to  be 
taken  to  the  Commanding  Officer  for  his  con- 
sent and  signature,  and  when  the  officer  re- 
fused to  honor  one  of  them,  I  generally 
was  blamed  for  it,  especially  when  a  fellow 
had  made  an  appointment  with  some  young 
lady. 

There  was  a  fence  around  the  camp  and 
many  a  man,  refused  admission  to  go  to  town, 
had  his  first  experience  there  at  **  going  over 
the  top."  And  though  the  top  of  the  fence 
was  lined  with  barbed  wire,  the  boys  put  a 
10 


A  START  AT  SOLDIERING 

plank  over  it,  and  many  a  night  that  plank 
worked  overtime.  To  get  back  into  barracks 
was  a  little  more  difficult,  however ;  but  gen- 
erally the  man  who  had  gone  without  leave 
straightened  things  out  with  one  of  the 
guards,  and  so  avoided  trouble  with  the  au- 
thorities. 

Intoxicating  drinks  of  any  sort  were  pro- 
hibited in  camp,  but  for  all  that  many  a  bottle 
was  smuggled  in,  even  after  systematic  search 
of  the  men  returning  from  town.  Some  of 
the  men  were  most  resourceful  in  finding 
places  where  they  could  hide  the  flasks.  They 
would  secrete  them  in  their  riding  breeches,  in 
their  caps,  and  when  this  no  longer  worked, 
they  went  so  far  as  to  buy  cakes  a  little  larger 
than  a  flask,  hollow  them  out  and  then  put 
the  bottle  in  it.  These  delicacies  were  sup- 
posed to  come  from  home  and  the  guards  were 
fooled  for  a  long  time  xmtil  one  day  a  cake 
made  a  most  peculiar  noise  as  it  was  being 
examined  by  a  non-commissioned  officer.  As 
he  shook  the  cake,  a  familiar  sound  fell  upon 
his  ears.  It  sounded  like  liquor  in  a  bottle. 
Whereupon  this  avenue  of  importing  intoxi- 
cants into  the  camp  was  closed,  and  the 
11 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

sergeant  inspector  was  richer  by  one  bot- 
tle, which  was  divided  among  the  guard. 

It  was  an  easy  thing  in  those  days  to  get 
kicked  ont  of  the  army  altogether,  for  men 
were  still  plentiful,  and  one  had  to  be  almost 
a  physical  marvel  to  get  into  the  service 
at  all. 

We  spent  some  time  in  a  camp  on  the  shores 
of  Lake  Ontario,  where  uniforms  were  finally 
issued  to  us.  The  funny  little  coats  they 
gave  us,  and  the  regulation  breeches  had  a 
queer  look  about  them;  I  felt  that  my  friends 
back  home,  had  they  seen  me  in  this  get-up, 
would  have  had  me  examined  as  to  my  sanity. 
For  riding  breeches  were  only  used  by  the  idle 
rich,  in  the  Northwest. 

The  underwear  they  issued  us  was  even 
more  of  a  trial.  It  was  rough  and  a  person 
putting  it  on  for  the  first  time  had  the  im- 
pression that  the  **kooties''  had  settled  all 
over  him,  as  indeed  they  did  in  the  case  of 
many. 

Though  I  had  done  everything  possible  to 
keep  these  insects  away  from  me,  I  discov- 
ered that  my  efforts  were  unavailing.  It  got 
to  be  a  question  of  how  to  get  rid  of  the  pests, 
12 


A  START  AT  SOLDIERING 

and,  having  heard  of  a  method  that  would 
accomplish  this,  I  thought  that  I  would  try  it. 
We  had  a  dog  for  a  mascot,  and  dogs,  as 
everyone  knows,  have  fleas.  It  is  said  that 
there  is  eternal  enmity  between  kooties  and 
fleas  and  that  one  will  not  stay  where  the 
other  is.  With  that  in  mind,  I  transplanted 
a  few  of  the  fleas  upon  myself,  so  that  they 
might  declare  war  upon  the  kooties  and  drive 
them  out.  But  before  the  experiment  could 
be  successfully  concluded,  I  thought  it  well 
to  apply  a  chemical  remedy;  anyway  the  de- 
sired result  was  obtained,  which  gave  me 
what  I  hoped  for. 

By  this  time  most  of  us  had  become  familiar 
with  the  little  tricks  of  barrack  life.  We 
bad  a  good  doctor,  who  thought  nothing  of 
excusing  us  from  drill  and  other  hard  work 
so  long  as  we  said  that  we  were  sick.  The 
result  of  this  was  that  many  of  us  were  sick 
every  cold  morning  that  came  along,  espe- 
cially when  the  night  before  we  had  done 
overtime  playing  poker  and  rolling  the 
**  bones.  *' 

The  money  that  was  won  at  these  games 
was  in  I.  0.  U.'s  generally,  but  now  and 
13 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

then  one  actually  managed  to  get  some  real 
cash.  Gambling  got  to  be  a  mania  with  ns 
and  the  gang  wonld  sooner  play  poker  than 
eat.  It  ultimately  reached  a  point  where  the 
men  would  play  for  everything  and  anything, 
even  their  shoes.  And  the  Doc  got  wise,  and 
after  that  when  a  man  went  sick  he  got  a  dose 
of  castor  oil  at  the  very  least. 

Our  military  training  was  making  some 
headway,  however.  We  came  to  understand 
the  different  bugle  calls,  and  we  learned  how 
to  handle  the  rifle  and  bayonet  and  how  to 
shoot. 

We  were  now  told  that  our  training  would 
be  completed  in  England;  France  seemed  as 
far  away  as  ever.  Most  of  us  thought  that  the 
war  would  surely  end  before  we  got  there. 
As  week  after  week  passed  away  the  chances 
of  seeing  the  battlefield  seemed  more  re- 
mote. 

But  one  fine  day  in  March  we  received  or- 
ders to  get  ready  to  entrain.  There  was  much 
hustle  and  happiness — faces  were  glowing, 
and  the  old  grudges  were  forgotten.  The 
preparations  for  our  departure  were  made 
in  jig  time.  A  few  teleuhone  calls  to  wives, 
14 


A  STAET  AT  SOLDIEBINa 

mothers  and  sweethearts,  and  the  men  were 
ready. 

On  the  day  of  our  departure  the  camp 
grounds  were  packed  with  relatives  and 
friends  who  came  to  say  good-bye ;  in  the  case 
of  many  it  was  to  be  a  last  farewell. 


CHAPTER  II 

GETTING  NEAB  THE  FRONT 

Needless  to  say,  we  had  a  hearty  reception 
everywhere  on  our  trip  East.  "Within  six 
hours  of  our  arrival  at  Halifax  the  organiza- 
tion had  embarked  and  was  on  its  way  to 
Europe. 

The  first  thing  that  attracted  my  attention 
on  our  arrival  in  Liverpool  was  the  funny 
little  English  trains.  The  coaches  with  their 
compartments  did  not  impress  me  favorably, 
but  I  found  them  quite  comfortable  for  aU 
that.  They  were  so  packed  that  some  of  us 
had  to  sit  on  the  floor.  I  also  discovered  that 
these  little  English  trains  could  move  at  a 
mighty  good  speed. 

At  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  we 

stopped,  detrained,  and  made  a  long  march  to 

the  camp  which  had  been  made  ready  for  us. 

There  we  were  given  blankets  and  a  cup  of 

16 


GETTING  NEAR  THE  FRONT 

hot  tea ;  and  then  we  turned  in  and  soon  every- 
body was  fast  asleep,  the  railroad  trip  and 
the  march  having  made  us  a  weary  crew,  in- 
deed. Next  morning,  at  reveille,  we  found 
that  we  had  come  to  England  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  continue  the  dull  drilling  that 
we  had  left  off  in  Canada.  This  was  disaj)- 
pointing,  but  we  were  set  to  work  to  get  over 
it.  It  had  been  raining  and  the  mud  was 
deep  enough  to  lose  your  shoes  in.  We  were 
not  used  to  wet  weather  and  within  two  or 
three  days  the  sick  parade  was  bigger  than 
usual,  and  not  a  few  of  us  were  laid  up  for  a 
long  time.  The  climate  proved  too  much  for 
me  also.  Chills  had  settled  all  over  me,  and 
I  was  hoarse,  but  despite  that  I  continued  my 
duties.  On  one  occasion  I  was  in  charge  of 
the  sick  parade  and  as  I  marched  the  men 
over  to  the  doctor  I  had  practically  no  voice 
left.  The  doctor  had  some  difficulty  in  under- 
standing me,  but  he  was  quite  cheerful 
about  it. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  this  morn- 
ing T"  he  inquired.  '*You  make  a  sound  like 
a  codfish.*' 

I  explained  that  I  did  not  know  exactly  what 
17 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

was  the  trouble,  so  the  doctor  took  my  tem- 
perature and  called  the  ambulance.  I  was 
to  be  taken  to  a  hospital,  the  very  thought 
of  which  gave  me  the  shivers.  I  suggested 
to  the  doctor  that  possibly  the  affair  could 
be  settled  without  going  to  the  hospital. 

"Well,"  he  said,  *4f  you  don't  go  now 
your  friends  will  be  walking  slowly  behind 
you  next  week." 

That  seemed  good  advice  to  me,  especially 
since  I  was  under  the  spell  of  the  big  med- 
ical term  which  the  doctor  had  made  use  of 
so  casually — ^bronchial  pneumonia. 

I  managed  to  survive  the  attack  and  upon 
return  to  my  unit  found  that  the  Command- 
ing Officer  had  decided  to  give  me  back  pay 
and  three  days'  leave  to  go  to  London,  a  city 
which  I  then  saw  for  the  first  time. 

The  British  capital  was  known  to  me  only 
through  a  few  pictures  of  the  more  important 
places,  such  as  Westminster  Abbey,  the 
Tower,  and  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  But  I  had 
heard  a  lot  about  Leicester  Square,  Hyde 
Park,  the  Strand,  Charing  Cross  and  Picca- 
dilly Circus,  and  I  wanted  to  see  them.  As 
a  natural  result,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  mom- 
18 


GETTING  NEAE  THE  FEONT 

ing,  after  my  arrival,  I  found  myself  lost  in 
the  streets  of  London.  I  stated  my  trouble 
to  a  very  obliging  Bobby,  who  was  somewhat 
handicapped  in  helping  me,  for  the  reason 
that  I  had  forgotten  the  name  of  the  hotel 
where  I  was  stopping.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  after  that  but  to  hire  a  taxi  and  spin 
around  until  I  should  have  located  the  place, 
some  hazy  notion  as  to  its  locality  being  still 
in  my  mind.  The  taxi  hadn't  gone  more  than 
thirty  yards  when  I  saw  the  house  for  which 
I  had  been  looking  so  anxiously  just  across 
the  street.  And  there  I  learned  that  the  Lon- 
don taxi  driver  knew  his  business,  and  also 
how  to  charge. 

But  further  adventures  were  to  come.    A 
day  or  two   after  my  arrival  in   town  I 
thought  I  would  like  to  see  Piccadilly  Circus, 
hoping,  of  course,  to  find  a  big  tent  and  a  lot 
of  side  shows,  and  all  that  goes  with  an  estab- 
lishment of  the  sort.    I  asked  a  Bobby  for 
directions  and  I  remember  his  making  the 
remark: 
**This  'bus  goes  right  through  it." 
Thinking  that  the  omnibus  was  a  **  Circus 
Special,"  I  started  on  my  ride  without  both- 
19 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ering  much  about  my  destination.  There 
ought  to  be  no  trouble  finding  out  when  I 
was  at  the  circus.  After  a  ride  of  about  half 
an  hour  the  conductor  climbed  up  the  stairs 
for  another  fare. 

"Say,  isn't  it  near  time  we  got  to  Picca- 
dilly Circus!'*  I  said. 

"Why,  you  went  through  there  about 
twenty  minutes  ago,"  he  replied.  "You  are 
out  at  Clapham  Commons  now.'* 

There  was  no  doubt  that  I  had  missed  the 
Circus,  but  I  was  still  anxious  to  see  it  and 
started  out  once  more  in  quest  of  it.  I  took 
another  omnibus,  gave  the  conductor  his  four 
pence,  climbed  on  top  and  rode  until  I  felt 
sure  we  must  be  somewhere  near  the  Circus. 
Just  then  the  conductor  came  up  for  another 
fare.  I  wanted  to  know  where  Piccadilly 
Circus  was. 

"Why,  man,  this  is  Hyde  Park  Comer,"  he 
replied.  "We  went  through  the  Circus  about 
five  minutes  ago." 

Having  fifteen  minutes  the  best  of  the  first 

lap,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  get  off  that 

Hbus  and  think  it  over  for  a  while.    It  seemed 

a  little  strange  that  I  should  be  constantly 

20 


GETTING  NEAE  THE  FRONT 

going  throngli  the  Circus  and  not  see  any- 
thing of  it.  I  decided  to  try  a  taxi,  to  the 
driver  of  which  I  gave  particular  instructions 
to  take  me  to  Piccadilly  Circus  and  drop  me 
off  in  the  middle  of  it.  The  man  smiled  and 
drove  off.  In  about  three  minutes  he  stopped 
and  opened  the  door  for  me  to  get  out.  I 
looked  around  for  a  circus  but  saw  none. 
The  only  thing  that  came  at  all  near  remind- 
ing me  of  a  show  were  some  flower  girls  near 
a  fountain.  Under  the  circumstances  it 
seemed  best  to  take  the  taxi  driver  into  my 
confidence.  After  much  explanation  on  my 
part,  which  afforded  not  a  little  amusement  to 
the  chauffeur,  I  learned  that  Piccadilly  Cir- 
cus is  a  sort  of  semi-circular  place  into  which 
lead  seven  thoroughfares  from  the  several 
parts  of  the  city. 

The  constant  traveling  I  had  done  on  the 
Abuses  had  given  me  a  very  good  appetite,  and 
to  appease  it  I  walked  into  the  first  place  I 
came  to.  This  happened  to  be  one  of  Lon- 
don's ultra-fashionable  tea  parlors.  The 
place  was  fairly  well  packed  at  the  time  but 
I  managed  to  find  a  place  at  a  table.  I  no- 
ticed that  everybody  was  sipping  tea  and 

21 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

eating  cakes,  but  that  was  not  the  sort  of 
food  I  was  looking  for.  The  waiter  wanted 
to  know  whether  I  had  come  to  take  tea,  to 
which  I  replied  that  a  steak  abont  the  size  of 
a  barn  door,  done  rare,  and  served  with  fried 
onions,  would  suit  me  much  better.  The 
man's  jaw  dropped  and  everyone  around  be- 
gan to  smile.  I  was- informed  that  this  was  a 
tea-room  and  not  a  restaurant.  Too  timid  to 
leave  the  place,  I  ordered  some  tea  and  ate 
about  two  dollars  worth  of  biscuits  before  I 
had  satisfied  my  appetite.  I  found  out  then 
and  there  that  the  cost  of  living  in  England 
was  higher  than  I  had  thought.  It  was 
just  as  well  that  my  stay  in  London  was  lim- 
ited to  three  days. 

Upon  my  return  to  the  camp  I  found  that 
I  had  been  transferred  to  a  mechanical  basa 
to  drive  a  mobile  workshop.  This  detail  gave 
me  a  good  opportunity  to  see  much  of  rural 
England  and  its  beautiful  scenery.  The  fine 
old  trees  especially  interested  me,  as  did  the 
lovely  old-fashioned  houses,  the  fine  lawns 
and  well-kept  orchards;  also  the  hop  fields. 

A  little  later  I  was  one  of  those  picked  to 
go  to  France  in  a  draft  for  the  mechanical 
22 

;  i 


GETTING  NEAR  THE  FRONT 

service.  Little  by  little  I  was  moving  up 
closer  to  the  front.  There  was  a  possibility 
of  running  into  a  submarine  or  **tin  fish,'*  as 
the  Boys  called  them,  while  crossing  the  Eng- 
lish Channel,  though  it  was  known  that  they 
were  not  out  in  full  force  just  then.  We 
landed  in  France  after  an  entirely  uneventful 
journey,  and  in  a  little  French  estaminet  we 
drank  our  first  French  wine.  It  did  not  taste 
good  to  me;  in  fact  it  was  sour.  I  noticed, 
however,  that  there  were  many  good-looking 
girls  about  the  place  and  they  made  a  much 
better  impression  upon  me  than  the  wine  had 
done. 

On  the  same  afternoon  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  French  railroads,  the  passenger 
cars  of  which  are  just  as  funny  and  little  as 
those  of  the  English  lines.  We  traveled  in 
freight  cars,  however,  which  are  large  enough 
to  carry,  as  stated  by  a  signboard  on  the  sides 
of  the  car,  forty  men  or  eight  horses — 40 
hommes  ou  8  chevaux. 

In  this  manner  we  got  to  a  railroad  where 
we  were  met  by  an  English  sergeant-major 
and  taken  to  a  camp  which  wa»  about  six 
miles  behind  the  lines. 
23 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

We  thought  that  we  were  real  soldiers  now. 
The  Commanding  Officer  of  the  base  to  which 
we  had  been  taken  was  not  of  that  opinion, 
though.  The  sergeant-major,  who  had  been 
our  reception  committee,  had  brought  us  to 
attention  before  the  Commanding  Officer  with 
results  that  did  not  seem  to  have  pleased 
either  of  them.  The  Commanding  Officer 
gave  us  to  understand  that  we  were  to  be 
drilled  and  have  discipline  instilled  into  us 
even  if  he  had  to  do  it  with  a  sledge  hammer. 
That  was  definite  enough,  but  we  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  knowing  that  we  would  not  stay 
in  that  place  forever,  consequently  we  let  his 
remarks  go  in  by  one  ear  and  out  by  another. 

There  was  a  businesslike  air  about  the 
place  which  impressed  us  all  the  more  when 
presently  they  issued  to  each  of  us  a  rifle 
and  fifty  rounds  of  ammunition,  and  assigned 
us  the  lorries  we  were  to  drive. 

Before  the  day  had  grown  much  older  I 
was  given  a  good  lesson  in  discipline.  There 
was  a  queer  mark  on  the  body  of  the  lorries 
— ^a  triangle  with  a  bar  in  its  center.  I  wanted 
to  know  what  that  meant,  but  was  given  to 
understand  that  it  was  none  of  my  "blink- 
24 


GETTING  NEAR  THE  FRONT 

ing''  business.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  drive 
that  lorry  and  keep  it  clean.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  terseness  about  that  remark, 
and  I  decided  not  to  ask  any  more  questions 
that  seemed  out  of  order. 

Before  long  that  old  wagon  became  to  me 
bedroom,  sitting-room  and  what-not,  all  rolled 
into  one.  It  wasn't  such  an  uncomortable 
home  at  that. 

My  lorry  belonged  to  a  column  that  earned 
ammunition  from  the  nearest  railhead  to  the 
front.  The  first  hurry  call  we  had  lasted 
three  days.  The  Huns  were  getting  busy  on 
the  salient.  On  arriving  at  the  advance  dump 
— ^the  place  where  the  gun-limbers  get  the 
ammunition  for  the  batteries — I  heard  shells 
scream  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  It  gave 
me  a  peculiar  sensation  at  first,  though  some- 
one said  cheerfully: 

*'0h,  you'll  get  used  to  this." 

For  all  that,  I  always  retained  a  wholesome 
respect  for  a  high  explosive  shell. 


CHAPTER  III 

GASSED 

On  the  morning  of  the  first  day  of  the  sec- 
ond battle  of  Ypres,  I  happened  to  be  doing 
some  repair  work  on  the  section  commander's 
automobile.  In  a  nearby  field  was  an  artil- 
lery ammnnition  dump,  and  this  the  German? 
seemed  bent  npon  reaching  with  their  shells. 
The  fire  was  scattered,  however,  and  before 
long  it  became  entirely  too  hot  aronnd  the 
car  I  was  repairing  and  I  was  obliged  to  find 
shelter  in  a  bomb-proof.  There  was  a  lull  in 
the  fire  presently,  and  I  concluded  that  it 
might  be  safe  to  resume  my  work.  I  had 
hardly  come  to  the  surface,  however,  when 
the  Huns  reopened  their  fire.  It  seemed  best 
to  get  in  the  car  and  speed  as  far  away  from 
the  front  as  was  possible.  I  had  gone  down 
the  road  some  two  hundred  yards  when  the 
section  commander  caught  up  with  me  and 
demanded  his  car,  saying  that  he  was  in  a 
26 


GASSED 

hurry.  So  I  jumped  out  and  let  him  have 
it. 

The  fire  continued  and  I  could  not  see  what 
good  it  would  serve  to  stay  in  it.  "While  I  was 
walking  along  the  road,  about  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  behind  the  lines,  the  firing  increased 
in  intensity.  The  noise  fascinated  me.  For 
about  two  hours  I  watched  the  spectacle  of  a 
front  in  eruption. 

There  was  heavy  firing  all  night,  and  the 
next  morning  I  suddenly  smelt  something  like 
chloride  of  lime.  The  stench  increased  all 
the  time,  and  presently  my  lungs  began  to 
feel  sore.  I  had  a  hard  time  breathing,  and 
coming  to  a  ditch  I  looked  into  it  to  see 
whether  the  smell  was  coming  from  there, 
chloride  of  lime  being  used  generally  for 
sanitary  purposes.  But  I  saw  nothing  in  the 
ditch  and  my  lungs  began  to  hurt  more  and 
more.  Finally  I  took  my  bandanna  handker- 
chief and  tied  it  over  my  mouth.  A  few  min- 
utes later  an  ammunition  lorry  came  tearing 
down  the  road.  It  picked  me  up  and  took 
me  to  the  railhead,  where,  with  four  others, 
I  was  sent  to  a  hospital  and  treated  for  gas 
poisoning.  In  three  days  I  was  sent  to  Eng- 
27 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

land  with  abont  twelve  hundred  other  men 
who  had  been  gassed  or  wounded. 

That  was  only  one  shii)-load,  however. 
Several  thousands  of  other  wounded  and 
gassed  men  followed  us.  Many  of  them  were 
Canadians  whose  organizations  had  lost  heav- 
ily in  the  second  battle  of  Ypres,  for  it  was 
the  first  time  gas  had  been  used  on  the  Cana- 
dians. They  were  a  heart-breaking  sight,  and 
I  thanked  my  stars  that  I  stiU  had  a  whole 
skin. 

The  effects  of  the  gas  poisoning  were  not 
so  easily  gotten  rid  of,  however.  The  cure 
was  painful.  It  consisted  for  the  major  part 
of  taking  a  lot  of  salt  water  and  other  emetics 
so  that  the  system  might  be  cleared  of  the 
gases  assimilated  by  the  lungs.  The  lungs 
remained  congested  for  quite  some  time,  and 
a  peculiar  irritation  in  the  throat  caused  me 
on  several  occasions  to  cough  myself  into 
insensibility. 

The  gas  patient  is  a  hard  case  for  the  hos- 
pitals. I  got  very  little  sleep,  mainly  for  the 
reason  that  I  was  tied  up  in  bed  in  a  sitting 
position,  which,  in  the  course  of  time,  made 
me  very  ill-tempered  and  caused  me  to  use 
28 


GASSED 

language  which  afterward  I  regretted.  Also 
I  discovered  that  the  hospital  was  under  mar- 
tial law,  and  that  this  law  was  enforced  as 
rigorously  here  as  anywhere  else.  That 
helped  me  to  settle  down  and  take  things  as 
they  came,  but  there  were  times  when  I 
thought  very  seriously  that  it  would  be  better 
to  die. 

One  day  a  doctor  came  to  the  hospital  and 
picked  out  two  patients  he  wished  to  cure  at 
home.  I  was  one  of  them.  The  other  man 
had  been  wounded  in  sixteen  places  and  was 
a  terrible  sight.  When  I  saw  him  first  it  was 
believed  that  he  would  die,  but  within  a  few 
days  he  recovered  sufficiently  to  stand  the 
transfer  from  the  hospital  to  d  place  called 
Hawkhurst,  near  the  doctor's  home  in  Kent. 

The  two  of  us  were  given  a  large  front 
room.  But  I  could  not  stand  the  sight  of  my 
companion  in  misery.  So  he  was  presently 
taken  to  another  part  of  the  house.  I  can't 
remember  the  name  of  the  man,  but  I  know 
that  he  belonged  to  the  artillery  and  that  a 
Hun  shell  had  burst  about  a  foot  above  his 
head.  His  scalp  was  terribly  lacerated  and 
a  piece  of  shrapnel  had  entered  at  the  side 
29 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

of  the  nose  and  emerged  at  the  side  of  the 
neck.  One  of  his  eyes  was  black  and  closed, 
and  the  other  eye  he  seemed  unable  to  ever 
close.  The  only  part  of  his  body  that  was 
not  bandaged  was  his  right  forearm,  and  that 
moved  day  and  night. 

I  think  he  was  conscious  part  of  the  time, 
for  now  and  then  he  would  utter  a  loud  groan 
that  made  me  jump.  Fearing  that  the  man 
was  dying,  I  would  call  the  night  nurse  and 
she  would  summon  the  doctor,  a  man  who  had 
the  patience  of  Job,  as  was  shown  one  night 
when  he  was  called  six  times  and  still  man- 
aged to  be  pleasant  and  cheerful.  He  really 
deserved  a  medal  for  his  unfailing  good 
temper. 

The  people  in  that  part  of  the  country  were 
very  anxious  to  make  us  as  comfortable  as 
possible,  and  they  even  got  permission  to 
take  me  to  their  homes.  One  old  gentleman, 
of  the  name  of  Hardcastle,  took  me  all  over 
his  place.  He  was  somewhat  of  an  Ameri- 
can, having  operated  at  one  time  a  cattle 
ranch  in  New  Mexico. 

Of  course  the  odor  I  had  mistaken  for  the 
smell  of  chloride  of  lime  was  that  of  German 
30 


GASSED 

chlorine  gas.  I  tad  breathed  only  a  little  of 
it  and  the  effect  had  been  bad  enough.  The 
troops  on  the  firing  line  had  suffered  terrible 
losses  from  the  gas.  Shortly  after  that  gas 
masks  were  issued  and  though  they  were  very 
inconvenient,  they  were  indeed  life-savers  and 
we  welcomed  them. 

After  my  discharge  from  the  hospital  I  was 
attached  to  a  mechanical  transport  column  in 
England  and  in  August,  1915,  we  received 
orders  to  proceed  to  France.  The  trip  to  the 
nearest  seaport  had  to  be  made  over  the  coun- 
try roads.  I  was  section  sergeant  and  in  this 
capacity  had  to  scout  the  roads  ahead  of  the 
column,  on  a  motor  cycle,  thereby  gaining  the 
title  of  **The  Human  Sign  Post.''  In  addi- 
tion to  that  I  had  to  keep  the  convoy  together. 
We  passed  through  a  lot  of  little  English 
towns  and  lived  mostly  on  bully  beef  and  hard 
tack,  though  occasionally  the  farmers  and  vil- 
lagers along  the  road  would  ask  us  to  eat  with 
them. 

Trouble  seems  to  come  in  bunches,  and  I 

had  several  such  bunches  on  that  trip.    As 

section  sergeant  I  was  riding  a  motor  cycle,, 

usually  at  great  speed,  with  the  result  that 

3  31 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

my  face  was  all  wmd-bnmed.  The  men, 
moreover,  seemed  bent  on  raising  Cain  before 
getting  to  France.  There  are  a  good  many 
parallel  roads  in  the  parts  of  England  we 
were  going  through,  and  often  there  are  no 
signs  on  them.  Since  some  of  the  fellows  did 
not  like  the  big  clonds  of  dnst  that  were  be- 
ing raised  by  the  motor  tmcks  in  front,  they 
would  hang  back  and  take  some  other  road, 
usually  the  wrong  one.  That  kept  me  busy. 
Keeping  the  convoy  together  at  night,  when 
often  I  had  trouble  with  the  headlight  of  the 
motor  cycle,  which  had  gone  on  strike,  was 
no  easy  work.  The  roads  all  had  high  trees 
on  each  side,  which  made  them  look  very 
much  alike  and  kept  them  all  the  darker  at 
night. 

Hunting  stray  motor  trucks  under  these 
conditions  was  not  easy  and  generally  so 
many  were  missing  that  I  had  to  keep  racing 
back  and  forth  at  high  speed.  One  night  I 
was  hurrying  along  one  of  these  roads,  steer- 
ing by  a  speck  of  sky  visible  under  the  tree 
crowns.  Suddenly  I  came  to  a  turn  in  the 
road,  missed  it  in  the  dark  and  ran  full  speed 
into  a  high  hedge.  The  motor  cycle  landed 
32 


GASSED 

in  the  ditch  and  I  was  catapulted  over  the 
hedge  in  a  somersault.  I  had  just  come  to  a 
sitting  position  when  somebody  spoke  to  me. 
It  was  the  colonel  of  an  artillery  camp  who 
was  on  his  rounds  of  inspection.  He  found 
my  sudden  arrival  in  his  camp  very  funny, 
and  laughed  over  it.  Then  he  helped  me  back 
over  the  hedge.  I  found  that  the  machine  was 
still  in  working  order  and  decided  to  take 
time  to  fix  the  headlight.  Fortunately,  I  was 
none  the  worse  off  for  the  fall. 

The  convoy  made  good  progress,  however. 
Accidents  were  few.  The  most  serious  of 
them  happened  one  day  while  we  were  going 
through  a  little  village.  One  of  the  lorries 
hit  a  milk  cart  in  the  stern  and  drove  the 
horse  through  a  store  window.  But  nobody 
was  hurt.  Another  few  miles  -brought  us  to 
our  goal — the  seaport — though  before  we 
actually  reached  it  I  hit  a  cement  block  about 
a  foot  high  while  going  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  miles  an  hour  and  had  a  very  fine 
spill. 

It  did  not  take  us  long  to  embark  the  con- 
voy and  a  few  days  later  we  arrived  at  Rewan, 
in  France,  where  we  spent  two  days  resting 
33 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

up.  Then  the  convoy  was  formed  into  column 
and  started  for  the  front. 

We  were  required  to  travel  as  fast  as  we 
could,  stopping  only  for  our  meals  of  bully 
beef  and  hard  tack.  For  three  weeks  that  was 
the  only  thing  we  had  to  eat,  and  upon  our 
arrival  at  the  first  parking  place,  we  began 
working  day  and  night,  to  gather  up  and 
feed  the  Second  Division,  which  was  just  then 
pouring  into  France  ready  to  get  into  action. 

Some  of  the  machines  were  detailed  to  pick 
up  stragglers,  who  were  dropping  out  of  the 
ranks  during  the  long  route  marches  over 
cobble--stone  roads,  while  others  were  en- 
gaged in  filling  up  the  railhead  with  provi- 
sions and  forage.  This  sort  of  thing  con- 
tinued until  we  got  closer  to  the  advanced 
railhead,  and  there  our  real  work  began. 

But  before  we  got  that  far,  two  others  and 
myself  who  had  motor  cycles  made  a  trip  to 
the  nearest  first  line  trenches  where  we  had 
some  friends.  To  do  that  was  not  easy,  but 
we  had  no  real  trouble  until  we  got  to  where 
the  road  pickets  were.  These  we  bluffed  with 
the  usual  statement  that  we  had  dispatches. 
I  may  say  that  we  did  not  always  get  away 
34 


GASSED 

with  the  bluff.  Some  of  the  road  pickets 
would  want  to  see  our  identification  papers  as 
dispatch  riders,  and  being  unable  to  produce 
the  goods  we  were  often  turned  back.  In  that 
case  we  would  ride  a  short  distance  down  the 
road,  get  off  our  cycles,  cover  them  with 
leaves  and  branches  so  that  no  one  could  see 
them,  and  then  crawl  around  the  picket  on 
hands  and  knees  until  we  were  out  of  sight. 
We  were  all  right  as  soon  as  we  got  to  the 
conamunication  trenches,  so  long  as  we  knew 
the  name  of  the  battalion  we  wanted  to  visit. 
Many  queer  things  happened  on  these  side 
trips.  A  pal  of  mine,  named  Emory,  was 
caught  in  the  wrong  sector  and  though 
he  had  proof  of  his  identity,  the  Conunand- 
ing  Officer,  to  teach  him  a  lesson,  made  him 
go  out  into  No  Man's  Land  to  a  listening  post. 
After  having  been  thoroughly  scared  by  the 
Huns  and  reprimanded  by  the  Commanding 
Officer  of  the  battalion,  Emory  was  sent  back 
to  his  unit. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SPED  BY  MACHINE  GUNS 

Little  excursions  to  the  firing  line  were 
the  only  diversion  the  men  of  the  column  had. 
They  also  gave  us  a  chance  to  see  a  little 
more  of  war  than  running  a  lorry  allowed. 
I  had  friend  in  nearly  all  of  the  battalions, 
and  among  my  pals  in  the  infantry  was  a 
fellow  named  Brown,  who  came  from  the  Pa- 
cific Coast.  I  used  to  supply  him  with  cigar- 
ettes and  the  like. 

On  one  of  the  windy  and  rainy  afternoons 
they  get  in  the  autumn  in  Flanders,  I  had 
gotten  through  a  little  earlier  with  my  work 
and  decided  to  see  Brownie,  for  whom  I  had 
bought  some  socks.  I  managed  to  get  past 
the  road  sentries  all  right  and  entered  a 
little  town  called  D.  B.  The  place  has  long 
since  been  razed.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
little  town  there  is  a  shallow  lake  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  wide,  which  I  would  have  to 
36 


SPED  BY  MACHINE  GUNS 

wade  in  order  to  reach  my  friend.  Going 
through  that  lake  was  not  an  easy  matter. 
While  one  could  be  guided  by  the  blasted  tree 
stumps,  along  the  submerged  road,  the 
ground  had  to  be  carefully  inspected  with 
one's  feet  if  the  many  shell  holes  in  the  road 
were  to  be  avoided. 

Going  along  the  road  this  afternoon  I  fell 
into  three  shell  craters  and  had  to  swim  to 
get  out  of  them,  which  was  not  an  easy  job 
on  account  of  the  clothing  I  had  on.  I  man- 
aged to  get  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  but 
found  that  only  a  few  of  the  communication 
trenches  were  safe.  Though  I  was  none  too 
pleased  with  my  trip  by  now,  I  decided  to 
go  on.  To  keep  under  cover  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  go  through  a  little  woods,  on  the 
other  side  of  which  the  British  lines  were 
located.  I  had  a  disagreeable  experience 
among  the  trees.  I  stepped  on  a  grave  and 
the  odor  that  came  out  of  it  was  sickening. 

It  had  grown  dark.  I  hung  my  coat  on  the 
cross  at  the  head  of  the  grave  and  lit  a  match 
to  read  the  name  on  it — Private  Bolton,  Black 
Watch,  the  number  of  his  regiment  and  the 
date  of  the  action  in  which  he  was  killed. 
37 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Before  the  match  died  ont  I  could  see  that 
there  were  more  of  these  crosses  and  from 
inquiry  I  learned  that  some  nine  hundred 
Black  Watch  and  Scots  Greys  were  buried 
there.  I  was  also  told  that  the  continual  rains 
were  gradually  washing  away  the  earth  of 
the  graves  and  thus  exposing  the  dead. 

My  informant  was  a  sniper  and  he  and  I 
talked  war  until  a  working  party  came  up. 
It  was  going  the  same  way  I  was  and  I  de- 
cided to  go  along.  We  had  to  cross  an  open 
spot  about  fifty  yards  in  width,  and  the  Hun?, 
who  were  on  the  side  of  a  slope  about  a  hun- 
dred yards  away,  knew  it.  Working  parties 
and  others  going  to  the  first  line  trenches 
also  had  to  cross  the  exposed  field.  Every 
fifteen  or  twenty  'minutes  the  Germans  sent 
up  flares  or  star  shells  to  light  up  the  ap- 
proach to  the  trenches.  Whatever  they  saw 
was  sure  to  be  machine-gunned.  Many  a  poor 
chap  went  down  on  that  lonely  and  barren 
spot. 

The  locality  was  dismal  in  the  extreme.  On 
the  few  trees  that  were  standing  hardly  a 
branch  was  left.  The  ground  was  mucky  de- 
spite the  efforts  that  had  been  made  to  regu- 
38 


SPED  BY  MACHINE  GUNS 

late  the  rain  water  by  means  of  sand  bags. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  in  Flanders  they  have 
nothing  but  rain.  It  came  drizzling  down  in 
a  world  that  was  all  gray  except  when  lighted 
np  by  the  star  shells  of  the  Germans,  which 
would  throw  a  ghostly  light  on  the  surround- 
ing country  and  then  make  it  look  all  the 
more  lonesome.  I  only  wished  that  I  were 
back  in  North  America. 

I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  going  over  the 
exposed  field  and  decided  to  cross  it  by  means 
of  an  old  French  trench  I  had  noticed.  But 
I  had  not  gone  very  far  in  the  trench  when 
I  found  it  was  closed  with  sand  bags  to  keep 
out  the  water  that  was  coming  from  the  other 
side,  so  that  a  part  of  the  trench  might  be 
used  as  shelter  against  the  German  machine- 
gun  fire. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  get  out  of 
that  trench  again,  but  before  I  did  that  I 
picked  up  some  French  cartridges  which  I 
wanted  to  keep  as  a  souvenir.  In  doing  that 
I  discovered  that  dead  men  had  been  buried 
in  the  trench  but  had  evidently  been  uncov- 
ered by  the  rain.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
but  go  to  the  front  line  with  the  working 
39 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

party  which  was  jnst  starting  across  the  ex- 
posed spot  one  at  a  time.  The  men  would 
start  as  fast  as  legs  could  carry  them. 
Spurred  by  the  thought  that  the  German  ma- 
chine guns  might  hit  them  they  traveled 
some. 

The  Boche  had  learned,  however,  that  the 
working  party  was  on  its  way  across,  and  as 
each  man  started  to  run  the  machine  guns 
would  speed  him  on  his  way. 

The  machine  guns  worked  with  a  rapid- 
ity of  six  hundred  shots  a  minute.  The 
fourth  man  of  the  working  party  was  half 
way  across  the  open  field  when  he  pitched 
head  first  to  the  ground  and  lay  still.  The 
next  man  rushed  to  where  the  other  had 
fallen,  picked  him  up,  swung  him  on  his  back, 
and  then  continued  his  running  as  fast  as  he 
could. 

The  star  shells  of  the  Germans  came  closer 
together  now,  and  the  machine  guns  fairly 
rattled  at  the  two  men. 

We  stood  there  with  open  mouths,  hoping 
that  the  man  carrying  the  wounded  would 
not  get  hit  and  in  our  hearts  we  cursed  the 
Huns  who  were  doing  the  shooting. 
40 


AN    ENGLISH    RECRUITING    POSTER 


THIRTY-FIVE  HUNDRED  LOAVES  OF 
BREAD   FOR  THE    BOYS 


AUTHOR   AS   DESPATCH    RIDER 


.>  "Pa*©  ^^S  *    • 


SPED  BY  MACHINE  GUNS 

The  man  finally  gained  a  trench  on  the 
other  side  of  the  open  ground,  much  to  onr 
relief.    At  least  one  of  the  men  was  safe. 

The  race  with  death  started  anew.  Other 
members  of  the  working  party  rushed  across 
the  open  space  as  fast  as  they  could.  One  of 
them  fell,  but  he  rose  again  and  continued 
his  mad  race  for  the  trench  opening  be- 
yond. 

It  got  to  be  my  turn.  A  rubber  coat  I  was 
wearing  hampered  my  movements  and  also 
reflected  much  of  the  light  of  the  star  shell 
which  just  then  went  up.  I  was  nearly  in  the 
middle  of  the  exposed  field  when  Fritz  started 
his  machine  gun  and  caused  me  to  move  faster 
than  before.  My  speed  was  a  surprise  even 
to  me,  and,  despite  the  fact  that  I  was  ham- 
pered by  the  weight  of  wet  clothing,  I  ap- 
proached the  opening  of  the  trench  on  the 
other  side  with  such  momentum  that  I  was 
carried  past  it ;  I  landed  head  over  heels  in  a 
telegrapher's  dugout  and  knocked  his  stew 
and  fire  all  over  the  shack. 

I  had  deprived  that  man  of  his  supper  after 
he  had  risked  his  life  to  get  some  wood  across 
the  open  space.  He  was  drawing  for  his  fuel 
41 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

supplies  on  a  shell-blasted  house  about  two 
hundred  yards  behind  our  line. 

The  man  cursed  me  roundly,  for  which  I 
do  not  blame  him.  He  had  been  flirting  with 
death  to  get  enough  wood  for  his  supper  and 
now  I  had  spoiled  it  all.  For  two  weeks  he 
had  lived  on  bully  beef  and  hard  tack. 

I  squared  myself  by  giving  him  a  pocket 
alcohol  lamp  which  I  always  carried  with  me. 
That  appeased  his  wrath,  and  he  was  kind 
enough  even  to  direct  me  to  the  first  line 
trenches. 

To  get  to  the  first  line  of  the  trenches  I 
would  have  to  take  a  certain  communication 
trench,  said  the  telegrapher.  I  started  off 
through  the  deep  mud,  entered  at  the  opening 
of  the  communication  trench,  but  found  that 
the  ditch  had  been  plugged  up  with  sand  bags 
to  keep  the  water  out. 

It  was  the  practice  during  rainy  weather 
to  cut  off  sections  of  the  communication 
trenches  in  order  that  they  might  remain 
passable.  The  rain  water  collected  in  the 
deeper  lying  parts,  from  which  it  was  lifted 
by  means  of  hand  pumps. 

To  get  out  of  the  communication  trench  at 
42 


SPED  BY  MACHINE  GUNS 

the  **pliig''  meant  to  rnn  once  more  into  the 
machine-gun  fire  of  the  Germans.  But  there 
was  no  help  for  that.  So  I  went  over  the 
top  and  reached  the  next  stretch  of  the  com- 
munication trench  on  the  double  quick.  After 
a  seemingly  interminable  wade  through  the 
mud,  which  formed  the  bottom  of  the  trench, 
I  finally  got  into  the  British  first  line  to  find 
that  my  pal  was  on  picket.  It  would  be  an 
hour  before  I  could  see  him. 

That  time  I  spent  in  the  company  com- 
mander's dugout  watching  through  the  peri- 
scope the  star  shells  of  the  Germans.  It  was 
a  splendid  free  fire-works  show. 

Brownie  showed  up  finely  and  appreciated 
both  the  cigarettes  and  the  socks  I  had 
brought  him. 

I  hadn't  seen  my  friend  in  quite  some  time 
and  there  were  many  things  we  had  to  tell 
one  another — ^in  whispers,  of  course,  because 
we  were  only  a  few  yards  away  from  the  Hun 
trenches. 

Of  a  sudden  some  machine  guns  near  us 
began  to  pump  lead.  Peeping  over  the  para- 
pet of  the  trench  we  saw  that  the  British  had 
taken  under  fire  an  ammunition  party  of  the 
43 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Germans,  which  just  then  became  visible 
through  a  gap  in  a  stone  fence.  It  seems 
that  the  Hun  ammunition  carriers  had  been 
observed  a  little  further  away.  But  they  were 
in  the  habit  of  using  the  fence  as  cover.  They 
would  be  fired  upon  promptly  every  time  they 
reached  the  gap.  The  British  were  now  send- 
ing up  star  shells  so  constantly  that  the 
countryside  was  lit  up  almost  as  well  as  if  it 
had  been  day.  The  machine  guns  kept  up  a 
lively  racket  and  presently  they  were  joined 
by  the  rifles  of  the  men  in  the  trenches.  The 
field  artillery  also  took  a  hand  in  the  affair 
and  before  long  a  very  lively  scrimmage  was 
going  on.  They  seemed  to  have  plenty  of 
ammunition  just  then.  It  was  either  that  or 
the  probability  that  somebody  had  mistaken 
the  nature  of  the  fight,  which  caused  the 
howitzers  and  the  heavier  pieces  also  to  be 
heard  from.  For  over  an  hour  the  slam- 
banging  continued  and  since  there  was  no 
telling  what  the  thing  might  develop  into, 
I  wished  Brownie  good-bye  with  a  promise 
that  I  would  see  him  again  soon. 

On  my  way  back  I  fell  from  one  mud  hole 
into  another  and  generally  had  a  very  good 
44 


SPED  BY  MACHINE  GUNS 

taste  of  what  soldiering  at  night  means. 
Walking  in  the  mud  was  the  hardest  of  work. 
It  was  a  case  of  pulling  your  foot  out  of 
twelve  inches  of  muck,  sticking  it  in  again  and 
then  repeating  the  operation.  By  the  time 
I  got  to  the  dugout  of  the  telegrapher  I  was 
dead  tired.  The  thought  occurred  to  me  that 
I  would  ask  the  man  to  let  me  stay  with  him 
for  the  night,  but  I  feared  that  he  was  still 
angry  over  the  loss  of  his  stew. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  go  on.  I  man- 
aged to  cross  the  open  field  without  being  shot 
at  and  so  got  into  the  little  woods.  On  the 
edge  of  the  lake  I  fell  into  a  smokebox  hole. 
In  my  struggle  to  get  out  of  it  I  exhausted 
myself  so  that  I  had  to  lie  down  in  the  mud 
and  rest  up  a  while.  Then  I  waded  through 
the  lake,  weighing  a  ton  by  this  time,  so  it 
seemed.  My  clothing  was  wet,  I  was  tired 
out,  and  the  mud  also  added  to  my  bur- 
den. 

I  was  thankful  when  I  got  back  on  the  main 
road  where  the  mud  was  less  sticky  and  not 
so  deep.  It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
before  I  got  into  camp,  and  at  five  o'clock  I 
was  on  the  road  again  with  my  convoy  to 
45 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

fetch  material  for  the  Eoyal  Engineers,  to 
whom  I  was  then  attached. 

I  had  not  had  a  chance  to  take  off  my 
clothing.  "When  I  looked  myself  over  in  day- 
light I  saw  that  I  was  mnd  from  head  to  foot 
and  that  there  were  six  bullet  holes  in  my 
raincoat.  The  bullets  must  have  gone 
through  the  coat  while  I  was  running  across 
the  open  ground  with  the  coat  standing  out 
straight  behind  me  owing  to  the  speed  I  was 
making.  The  boys  found  my  adventure  of 
the  night  quite  interesting,  and  I  bet  some  of 
them  two  weeks'  pay  that  I  could  outrun  them 
under  any  circumstances. 


CHAPTER  V 

RUNNING   THE   GAUNTLET 

Our  work  at  that  time  consisted  principally 
of  carrying  barbed  wire  to  the  front  through 
mnd  and  slush  of  which  there  seemed  no  end. 
Northern  France  and  Flanders  seemed  to  be 
all  mud  in  the  winter — perhaps  in  summer 
too. 

A  few  nights  later  the  section  commander 
ordered  me  to  make  up  a  convoy  of  seven 

three-ton  trucks  and  proceed  to  H for 

twenty  tons  of  coal.  The  drivers  of  the  unit 
were  men  from  all  over  the  world.  I  had  a 
Canadian,  an  American,  an  Australian,  an 
Englishman,  a  Scotchman,  a  Swede,  a  Welsh- 
man, and  a  Frenchman.  They  were  all  men 
who  had  lived  well  in  civilian  life  and  the 
eternal  stew  of  bully  beef,  and  the  hard  tack, 
made  for  them  a  very  monotonous  bill  of  fare. 
The  motor  truck  drivers  anyway  never  lost  a 
chance  of  getting  better  grub  than  the  army 
4  47 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ration,  so  at  the  railhead,  where  the  French 
were  unloading  a  merchandise  train,  some  of 
my  men  looked  around  for  something  to  eat. 
"We  found  only  six  tons  of  coal,  which  we 
loaded  on  two  of  the  lorries,  and  while  the 
men  were  doing  that  I  went  to  the  base  com- 
mander's office  to  find  out  about  the  rest. 
While  I  was  away  from  the  unit  the  idle  men 
looked  over  the  French  army  supplies,  and 
soon  found  that  they  could  use  some  of  them. 
They  helped  themselves  to  a  lot  of  canned 
goods.  The  prospects  of  getting  a  square 
meal  were  too  tempting  to  be  overlooked. 
The  trouble  was  that  the  boys  were  not  satis- 
fied with  little ;  instead  of  taking  a  few  cans 
they  took  several  cases,  and  when  I  came  back 
a  French  officer  had  my  men  lined  up  and  a 
couple  of  gendarmes  were  going  through  the 
lorries  looking  for  the  stolen  goods. 

I  was  not  surprised  for  I  knew  my  ever- 
hungry  horde  too  well  to  think  that  they 
would  overlook  such  a  chance  to  get  some- 
thing to  eat.  But  for  the  sake  of  appear- 
ances I  asked  some  of  the  men  if  there  was 
anything  wrong.  The  French  officer  told  me 
that  they  were  being  searched  for  stolen 
48 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

goods.  That  settled  it,  for  I  knew  that  they 
had  been  found  ont,  otherwise  the  French 
officer  wonld  not  have  gone  so  far  as  he  did. 
There  was  a  fine  chance  for  all  of  ns  being 
placed  nnder  arrest  and  conrtmartialed.  I 
thought  the  thing  over  qnickly,  went  over  to 
one  of  the  lorries,  pulled  the  gendarme  ont  of 
it,  and  then  shouted  at  the  other.  I  asked 
them  who  had  given  them  permission  to 
search  my  lorries  and  was  told  that  the 
French  officer  had  ordered  it.  There  was 
nothing  else  to  do  now  but  try  issues  with 
the  officer.  I  went  over  to  him  and  asked  him 
by  what  authority  he  was  searching  British 
lorries  without  my  consent  or  the  consent  of 
the  British  base  commander.  That  was  walk- 
ing on  thin  ice,  of  course.  The  base  com- 
mander was  an  Englishman  and  I  was  a 
colonial ;  I  doubt  very  much  if  he  would  have 
given  me  protection.  I  asked  the  French 
officer  for  his  name  and  address,  and  told  him 
that  I  would  report  him  to  my  commanding 
officer.  That  helped.  My  strategem  suc- 
ceeded, and  rather  4)han  have  more  fuss  the 
French  officer  thought  it  best  to  call  off  the 
gendarmes.  And  on  returning  to  camp  I  was 
49 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

given  an  invitation  to  a  canned  chicken  din- 
ner by  my  men.  Of  conrse,  I  knew  where  it 
came  from. 

I  was  coming  down  the  road  one  night  with 
a  load  of  barbed  wire  and  pickets  when  I 
noticed  a  man  who  had  a  flash  lantern  in  his 
hand.  I  did  not  know  what  the  man  wanted 
and  stopped  the  lorry.  When  I  got  down  in 
the  road  I  noticed  that  he  was  dressed  in  an 
officer's  nniform  and  saluted  him.  He 
^wanted  to  know  where  we  were  bound  for. 
The  officer  wished  to  go  in  the  same  direction 
and  asked  me  to  take  him  along,  which  I 
did.  When  we  had  started  again  he  told  me 
that  he  was  the  commanding  officer  of  a 
Canadian  pioneer  battalion.  I  had  been  un- 
der the  impression  that  I  knew  the  man,  but 
had  been  unable  to  recall  who  he  was. 
Finally,  I  thought  I  had  him  placed,  but  was 
still  not  altogether  sure.  At  any  rate  I  told 
him  that  I  had  seen  him  before ;  just  then  I 
remembered  that  the  last  time  we  had  met  it 
had  cost  me  $30.  The  officer  looked  at  me  in 
surprise  as  I  mentioned  this  interesting  fact, 
and  I  inquired  whether  he  was  not  Magistrate 
Saunders  of  Calgary,  Alberta.  He  said  that 
50 


EUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

he  had  filled  such  a  piosition  at  one  time  and 
that  his  name  was  Saunders.  Then  I  told 
him  who  I  was  and  I  reminded  him  how  on  a 
certain  occasion  he  had  not  allowed  me  to 
say  anything  for  myself  but  had  just  tacked 
on  the  $30  fine  for  exceeding  the  speed  limit 
with  a  motor  car.  We  had  a  good  laugh  and 
parted  the  best  of  friends. 

Hauling  material  at  night  for  the  Engi- 
neers in  a  neighboring  sector,  we  had  to  use 
a  road  on  which  several  dispatch  riders  had 
been  killed  by  a  spy.  It  had  been  announced 
that  two  weeks'  leave  of  absence  in  England 
would  be  given  the  man  who  caught  the  spy, 
and  of  course  everybody  was  on  the  lookout 
for  him.  Every  nook  and  cranny  in  that  part 
of  the  country  had  been  searched,  but  nobody 
had  been  found.  The  only  person  ever  seen 
near  the  road  was  a  peasant  plowing  his 
fields. 

About  a  week  after  that  I  met  a  sergeant 
of  the  police  whom  I  knew  well  and  he  asked 
me  to  come  with  him  next  morning  to  head- 
quarters. I  was  there  at  six  o'clock  and  at 
six-thirty  that  same  peasant  was  marched  out 
in  the  little  square  behind  the  chateau  and 
51 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

blindfolded.  Sentence  of  death  was  then  read 
to  him  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  saw 
a  firing  squad  march  ont.  It  was  over  soon. 
A  bullet  through  the  heart  put  an  end  to  the 
peasant  and  he  was  buried  without  ceremony 
as  a  traitor  to  France  and  the  Allies. 

The  sight  impressed  me  greatly  and  for  the 
first  time  I  realized  fully  what  it  meant  to  be 
a  traitor.  I  went  back  to  the  ammxmition 
dump  a  very  thoughtful  man,  realizing  how 
little  a  life  mattered  in  this  great  strug- 
gle. 

That  afternoon,  the  weather  being  for  once 
favorable,  both  sides  sent  up  their  captive 
balloons.  I  counted  as  many  as  twenty  of 
them.  Most  of  them  were  Germans.  We  had 
a  few  ourselves,  but  the  Germans  were  better 
equipped  in  that  respect  The  aeroplanes 
also  sailed  about. 

I  envied  the  flyers.  Here  was  I  in  mud 
up  to  my  knees  either  in  the  trenches  or  on 
the  roads  and  getting  very  little  out  of  the 
war  but  lots  of  hard  work.  The  other  fellows 
were  sailing  around  in  the  clean  air  while  I 
had  to  duck  shells  all  the  time  and  run 
chances  of  being  caught  by  the  machine  guns 
52 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

and  snipers.  Of  course  the  aviators  were 
also  being  shelled,  but  they  never  seemed  to 
get  hurt.  I  had  seen  some  of  them  hit  trees 
and  other  obstacles  upon  landing  or  getting 
off  the  ground,  but  the  game  had  always  ap- 
pealed to  me  strongly.  To  me  flying  seemed 
the  very  acme  of  adventure  and  I  had  no 
notion,  of  course,  how  good  the  German  anti- 
aircraft batteries  were.  Flying  *  *  fish-hooks, '  * 
burning  ** onions,"  as  we  term  a  certain  type 
of  shell  used  by  the  Hun,  and  forced  landings 
were  things  unknown  to  me.  Of  the  cold 
above  the  clouds  and  the  chances  one  took  in 
having  to  land  behind  the  German  lines  I  had 
heard  very  little. 

But  I  was  willing  to  take  a  chance  for  all 
that,  so  long  as  I  could  get  out  of  the  mud 
and  had  an  opportunity  to  stay  indoors  at 
night.  The  mechanical  transport  service  was 
famous  for  mud  and  night  work.  I  was  so 
thoroughly  sick  of  them  both  that  I  was  will- 
ing to  do  anything  to  get  away  from  them. 

During  the  next  few  days  I  tried  to  gather 

information  as  to  how  I  could  get  into  the 

Royal  Flying  Corps.    I  got  no  satisfaction, 

however,  for  nobody  seemed  to  know  exactly 

53 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

how  so  exclusive  a  circle  could  be  invaded. 
Nevertheless,  my  ambition  to  get  into  the 
aviation  service  grew  stronger  each  day,  and 
each  bit  of  information  I  could  secure  was 
welcome. 

Christmas  of  1915  came  around,  and  every 
man  at  the  front  was  looking  forward  to  it  on 
account  of  the  presents  and  better  food  from 
home  which  the  holiday  season  would  bring. 
The  officers  of  the  unit  were  to  give  us  a  tur- 
key dinner.  The  day  before  Christmas  we 
were  paraded  and  each  man  received  a  pair 
of  socks,  a  piece  of  good  maple  sugar,  and 
three  packs  of  cigarettes.  From  some  other 
source  we  received  a  deck  of  cards  and  a 
small  box  of  chocolate.  Many  of  the  boys  also 
received  Christmas  boxes  from  home,  but  I 
was  not  one  of  them. 

On  the  same  afternoon  I  witnessed  an  event 
that  to  me  really  seemed  worth  while.  Some 
Canadians  were  to  be  decorated  by  the 
French  for  deeds  of  valor.  We  were  away 
north  of  the  French  lines,  but  that  made  no 
difference  to  the  poilus,  who  also  were  to 
attend  the  ceremony.  They  came  down  in 
lorries  just  as  they  had  left  the  trenches  and 
54 


EUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

they  did  not  have  a  holiday  appearance. 
There  were  about  five  hundred  of  them. 

After  the  French  soldiers  had  been  lined  up 
with  bayonets  fixed,  the  men  to  be  decorated, 
twenty-eight  in  number,  were  marched  into 
the  square  that  had  been  formed.  This  done, 
some  of  our  own  troops  marched  up,  headed 
by  a  band  that  was  playing  the  Marseillaise. 
The  enthusiasm  was  great.  Those  men  had 
gone  through  every  hardship  one  can  imagine, 
and  to  see  some  of  their  comrades  honored 
seemed  to  cheer  them  all.  The  poilus  and  our 
own  men  were  not  exactly  a  clean  looking  lot. 
There  was  an  unwashed  look  about  their  be- 
whiskered  faces  and  on  the  mud-covered  gray 
coats  could  be  seen  many  a  blood-spot.  But 
the  men  were  as  steady  as  rocks  and  pre- 
sented arms  with  a  snap  that  was  really 
inspiring. 

As  the  British  forces  came  to  attention  the 
French  band  struck  up  the  **  Maple  Leaf  For- 
ever," and  followed  this  by  *'01d  Canada." 
Then  the  French  and  British  generals  shook 
hands,  and  later  the  French  general  pinned 
the  decorations  on  the  Canadians  and  kissed 
each  of  them  on  the  cheek,  while  our  kilted 
55 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

band  played  the  march  past.  When  it  was  all 
over  the  generals  again  sainted  each  other 
and  the  troops  dispersed.  The  men  who  had 
been  decorated  did  not  seem  to  know  what 
to  do  with  themselves.  Just  then  the  gang 
who  had  watched  it  all  mshed  npon  the  poor 
unfortunates  and  carried  them  shoulder  high 
to  the  nearest  cafe. 

It  had  been  a  most  impressive  affair. 
There  is  something  in  those  French  soldiers 
and  even  in  the  peasants  that  make  one  con- 
scious of  the  fact  that  the  French  are  indeed 
a  noble  race.  They  were  already  beginning 
to  feel  the  great  strain  of  the  war,  and  though 
they  showed  plainly  that  it  was  telling  on 
them,  they  were  bearing  up  wonderfully.  I 
used  to  ask  them  whether  they  were  anxious 
for  peace ;  always  they  said  yes,  bu,t  with  the 
terms  of  ourselves  and  our  allies — ^th^  terms 
of  the  victors.  Otherwise  they  were  willing 
to  fight  to  the  last  and  I  think  they  have 
shown  that  spirit  all  the  way  through. 

Christmas  evening  we  had  the  turkey  din- 
ner.   Those  who  were  in  the  front  lines  had 
theirs  the  next  day.     The  front  was  quiet. 
At   twelve   o'clock   on    Christmas    eve    all 
56 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

firing  had  ceased  and  only  an  occasional 
star  shell  reminded  ns  that  night  that  war 
was  still  on.  These  shells  are  sent  up  to 
guard  against  surprise  attack.  We  wished 
one  another  all  the  good  things  of  the  season 
and  we  eren  included  the  Huns,  who  were 
about  seventy-five  yards  away.  They  had 
hoisted  up  a  placard  over  the  parapet  on 
which  was  inscribed  the  words  Merry  Christ- 
mas. It  was  a  sight  that  touched  the  hearts 
of  many  of  us  and  one  that  we  will  not  forget 
in  a  hurry. 

We  were  a  rather  melancholy  crew  those 
days.  Everybody's  thought  seemed  to  be 
very  far  from  the  trenches. 

Somebody  would  shout : 

* '  Hey,  mate,  what  are  you  thinking  about  ? ' ' 
and  back  would  come  the  answer : 

**Aw,  shut  up!" 

Many  of  us  would  have  given  a  great  deal 
to  be  home  that  night,  especially  when  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning  the  Christmas  truce 
came  to  an  end  with  the  bark  of  the  rifles.and 
the  tut-tut-tut-tut  of  the  machine  guns.  Soon 
the  field  artillery  and  the  ** heavies"  woke  up 
again,  and  before  long  an  intense  bombard- 
57 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ment  of  the  sector  was  on.  When  daylight 
came  the  ambulances  were  busy  carrying  out 
the  wounded  and  dying  and  many  were  buried 
on  Christmas  Day. 

That  afternoon  I  received  two  letters  from 
home  and  two  others  from  friends  in  Eng- 
land, which  was  really  a  big  mail.  I  also  re- 
ceived a  very  small  box  about  the  size  of  a 
jewelers'  case  and  very  neatly  done  up.  I 
was  curious  to  know  what  it  contained,  and 
upon  opening  it  found  Turkish  cigarettes — 
lady  size,  or  about  the  dimensions  of  a 
wooden  match.  They  had  been  sent  me  by 
a  lady  with  whom  I  had  had  tea  in  England 
and  who  had  promised  to  send  me  cigarettes. 
I  sat  down  and  finished  the  lot,  all  of  them 
making  just  one  good  smoke.  I  ended  the  day 
with  a  visit  to  a  dugout  where  we  had  a  game 
of  poker,  in  which  I  won  twelve  dollars,  which 
was  a  lot  of  money,  seeing  that  our  pay  was 
only  a  franc,  or  twenty  cents  a  day. 

This  meant  that  I  had  in  my  pockets  a  fair 
percentage  of  the  company's  pay-roll.  I 
knew  that  I  would  have  to  loan  out  a  consid- 
erable share  of  it  before  long  and  that  very 
little  of  it  would  ever  be  paid  back. 
58 


EUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

With  some  of  my  winnings  I  managed  to 
secure  a  bath,  something  which  is  pretty  hard 
to  get  in  Flanders,  since  the  natives  do  not 
seem  to  bathe  very  often.  In  Flanders  the 
bath  is  taken  in  a  wooden  tub  in  the  kitchen, 
and  one  has  to  scout  around  until  some  peas- 
ant woman  is  found  who  is  willing  to  rent 
her  kitchen  for  that  purpose.  Taking  a  bath 
is  quite  an  event  in  that  part  of  Europe.  I 
was  once  billeted  in  a  peasant  woman's  house 
where  nobody  had  taken  a  bath  for  seven 
months.  The  woman  had  the  habit  of  wash- 
ing the  children's  faces  in  the  same  water  in 
which  she  had  washed  the  dishes.  After  that 
I  took  no  chance  on  her  cooking,  and  a  partner 
of  mine.  Will  Askey,  and  I  took  turns  attend- 
ing to  our  food. 

During  our  first  months  in  France  we  had 
near  us  a  Gurka  or  Indian  regiment.  And  it 
was  funny  to  see  the  little  brown  men  in 
camp  or  in  action.  They  were  very  interest- 
ing. The  Gurkas  eat  a  funny  cake  made  by 
themselves  of  flour  and  water  and  you  could 
walk  into  a  Gurka  camp  most  any  time  and 
see  some  of  them  squatting  in  a  circle  mak- 
ing their  funny  little  biscuits  of  flour  and 
59 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

water  which,  when  cooked,  had  no  taste  what- 
ever. 

They  also  drank  a  lot  of  coffee  of  the 
French  kind,  which  is  abont  seventy-five  per 
cent  chickory  and  twenty-five  per  cent  coffee, 
bnt  it  isn't  bad  to  drink  at  that. 

The  Hnns  had  a  wholesome  fear  of  these 
little  Gurkas,  for  they  are  wicked  fighters, 
and  they  used  to  call  them  the  **  little  black 
devils/'  The  Gnrkas,  when  ordered  over  the 
top,  climbed  over  the  parapet,  dropped  their 
rifles  and  pulled  out  their  **kukries,"  a  sort 
of  heavy  knife  which  is  curved  and  looks  for 
all  the  world  like  a  hand-scythe  for  cutting 
com. 

This  knife  was  carried  in  their  mouths  by 
the  Gurkas,  who,  crawling  up  to  the  Hun  lines 
on  their  stomachs,  would  bounce  into  the 
Hun  trenches  and  without  a  word  the  silent 
slaughter  would  start.  They  would  cut  a 
Hun's  throat,  then  cut  off  his  ears  as  a  keej)- 
sake,  and  one  can  imagine  the  terror  the  Hun 
must  have  experienced  when  he  saw  those 
wicked  little  beady  eyes  full  of  murder  look- 
ing at  him. 

When  the  Gurkas  returned,  they  would  take 
60 


EUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

their  German  ears,  dry  them  and  string  them 
around  their  necks  as  onr  old  North  Ameri- 
can Indians  hnng  scalp  locks  aronnd  their 
belts.  And  if  a  Gnrka  had  to  go  to  a  hospital, 
yon  conld  take  his  clothes  or  anything  else 
he  had,  but  you  could  not  touch  the  string  of 
Hun  ears  he  wore  around  his  neck.  All  the 
Canadians  liked  the  Gurkas  very  much,  for 
they  were  excellent  fighters,  and  we  all 
hated  to  see  them  taken  away  to  another  and 
warmer  front  where  the  climate  was  more 
suitable  for  them,  and  where  it  was  easier  to 
procure  certain  kinds  of  food  which  they 
could  not  get  along  without. 

I  was  still  hoping  that  sooner  or  later  I 
might  get  into  the  Koyal  Flying  Corps,  but 
the  chances  did  not  seem  very  good.  I  was 
still  living  in  the  mud  and  working  chiefly  at 
night  for  the  reason  that  during  the  day 
German  artillery  made  all  roads  of  approach 
to  the  position  impossible.  Neither  the  mud 
nor  the  night  work  looked  good  to  me,  but 
for  the  time  being  there  seemed  to  be  no  get- 
ting away  from  them. 

One  night  about  six  o'clock  I  received  or- 
ders to  report  at  an  engineer's  dump  known 
61 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

as  Hyde  Park  Corner.  I  was  to  bring  two 
lorries  which  were  to  be  loaded  with  barbed 
wire  and  steel  pickets.  At  the  dump  I  was 
told  to  proceed  to  R.  E.  Farm,  the  road  to 
which  took  ns  through  a  shell-torn  village. 
On  entering  the  village  we  had  to  leave  the 
main  road  because  that  lay  in  full  view  of 
the  enemy.  At  the  other  side  of  the  village 
the  road  was  re-entered  at  a  point  where  there 
was  a  screen  of  sacking,  on  one  side  of 
which  were  painted  in  large  letters  the 
words:  ** Danger!  In  full  view  of  the 
enemy!" 

About  fifty  feet  from  the  screen  an  old 
woman  used  to  keep  a  coffee  wagon  from 
which  she  sold  refreshments  to  working  par- 
ties who  used  to  wait  behind  the  screen  until 
dark  made  it  possible  for  them  to  get  to  the 
front. 

This  particular  night  Fritz  had  a  hunch 
that  somebody  was  going  to  pass  the  place 
behind  the  screen.  Just  as  I  was  approach- 
ing the  coffee  wagon  the  Huns  began  to  send 
over  shells  and  the  third  one  landed  right 
underneath  the  wagon  and  blew  it,  the  lady, 
and  the  old  horse  into  Kingdom  Come. 
62 


EUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET 

It  was  bad  enough  to  have  the  old  lady  and 
the  horse  killed,  but  to  lose  that  coffee  stall 
and  that  cafe  complet  was  really  the  worst 
of  all.  Cafe  complet  in  this  instance  meant 
that  a  liberal  shot  of  rum  went  into  each  cup 
of  coffee. 

"We  would  have  to  do  without  that  now,  and 
the  thought  exasperated  us.  Fritz  had  been 
guilty  of  an  unforgivable  sin,  as  anyone  would 
have  concluded  from  the  language  that  was 
used  by  the  boys.  In  the  meantime  the  shells 
were  still  coming  and  it  seemed  extremely 
risky  to  continue  on  the  road,  which  was  so 
narrow  that  only  one  truck  at  a  time  could 
pass  over  it.  There  was  a  side  road,  but  that 
had  three  feet  of  mud  on  it,  nor  were  we  in- 
clined to  run  back  three-quarters  of  a  mile  to 
get  another  road.  The  sentry  near  the  screen 
let  us  pass,  but  I  knew  that  the  lorries  would 
have  to  get  up  better  speed  if  they  were  to 
cross  the  danger  zone  unhurt. 

By  means  of  a  governor,  the  speed  of  the 
lorries  was  being  limited  to  fifteen  miles  an 
hour.  But  we  had  discovered  thki  if  the  ball 
in  the  governor  was  held  up  we  could  get  as 
much  as  twenty-five  miles  out  of  the  motor. 
5  63 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I  was  heading  the  column  and  knew  that  if  my 
lorry  went  faster  the  others  would  know  what 
to  do,  so  I  climbed  in  front  of  the  machine, 
lifted  the  hood  and  held  up  the  ball  in  the  gov- 
ernor. It  did  my  heart  good  to  see  the  speed 
the  motor  was  giving  the  car  now.  The  other 
drivers  followed  my  example  and  before  long 
we  were  tearing  down  the  road  with  the  shells 
falling  all  about  us.  We  had  gone  another 
mile  and  a  half  towards  the  dump,  when  a 
small  shell  hit  one  of  the  armored  front 
wheels  of  my  lorry  and  blew  it  off.  The  lorry 
fell  on  its  axle,  but  aside  from  being  strained 
a  little  and  having  lost  a  wheel  it  suffered  no 
damage.  We  managed  to  get  a  spare  wheel 
and  by  midnight  were  on  our  way  back  to  the 
camp. 


CHAPTER  VI 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 


Five  days  later  I  had  a  like  experience 
while  carrying  lumber  to  the  front  for  the 
repair  of  a  field  dressing  station  about  two 
hundred  yards  behind  our  lines.  To  get  there 
exposed  ground  had  to  be  traversed.  There 
was  a  similar  screen  of  sacking  at  that  point, 
and  the  sentry  who  directed  the  traffic  on  the 
road  did  not  want  to  let  me  pass.  To  lend  force 
to  his  arguments  he  drew  my  attention  to  a 
nearby  field,  in  which,  though  only  about 
three  hundred  yards  square,  there  were  as 
many  as  150  shell  holes.  As  I  was  counting 
the  holes,  a  heavy  bang  nearby  showed  me 
that  some  of  our  forces  were  stationed  there, 
and  then  I  knew  why  the  Germans  had  dug  up 
the  field  so  well.  They  had  been  looking  for 
this  battery  for  some  time  and  that  accounted 
for  the  many  shell  craters. 

I  waited  at  the  screen  until  it  was  nearly 
65 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

dark  and  then  continued.  My  lorry  had  been 
seen,  however.  As  I  was  taking  it  aronnd  a 
corner  the  Hnns  cut  loose  and  caused  me  to 
go  down  that  road  as  fast  as  the  motor  would 
take  me.  I  had  climbed  through  the  head 
of  the  lorry  and  was  lifting  up  the  hood  to 
release  the  governor,  when  I  received  so 
forceful  a  punch  in  the  hips  that  I  was  al- 
most knocked  off.  We  did  not  stop  but  went 
right  on  and  upon  arrival  at  the  dressing  sta- 
tion, about  two  miles  from  the  point  where 
I  had  been  hit,  the  doctor  picked  a  bullet  out 
of  my  side.  Fortxmately,  it  was  a  spent  bul- 
let and  aside  from  having  the  wound  steril- 
ized I  needed  little  attention.  In  a  few  days 
I  was  back  at  work. 

On  that  trip  also  I  saw  a  mule  hit  on  the 
head  by  a  shell,  which  showed  me  what  anni- 
hilation really  meant,  as  it  blew  its  head  off. 

Shortly  after  my  return  from  the  hospital 
Sergeant  Arthur  Montgomery  Dyas  and  I 
started  for  the  ruins  of  Ypres  in  the  Canadian 
salient  to  get  some  furniture  for  a  sergeant's 
mess.  We  got  to  the  place  without  any  trou- 
ble and  found  cover  for  the  lorry  in  the  lee  of 
a  blown-up  building.  It  was  a  fine  day  and  a 
66 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 

Hun  Taube  was  sailing  overhead.  The 
British  anti-aircraft  batteries  were  concen- 
trating upon  the  airplane,  with  the  result  that 
a  great  deal  of  shrapnel  began  to  fall  around 
us.  We  had  to  get  under  cover,  but  anxious 
to  see  what  would  happen  to  Heinie  aloft,  we 
ventured  out  again.  The  British  batteries 
were  getting  the  bead  on  the  Taube.  In  the 
blue  sky  around  the  aircraft  shrapnel  clouds 
were  visible  and  gradually  came  closer  to  the 
machine.  Of  a  sudden  the  flash  of  a  shrapnel 
appeared  directly  under  the  machine,  which 
seemed  to  come  to  a  stop  immediately,  then 
broke  in  two  and  came  hurtling  to  the  ground. 
It  hit  the  earth  with  a  crashing  sound. 

I  was  still  very  much  interested  in  mili- 
tary aviation,  but  for  a  moment  I  wondered 
whether,  after  all,  that  game  was  worth 
while. 

The  German  batteries  began  to  look  for  re- 
venge and  very  soon  the  battery  that  had 
brought  down  the  Hun  birdman  received 
their  close  attention.  The  ruins  of  the  town 
were  not  overlooked.  Masonry,  bricks  and 
the  fragments  of  shells  filled  the  air,  but  the 
only  casualty  I  noticed  was  a  large  rat  that 
67 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

had  made  up  its  mind  to  cross  the  road.  A 
piece  of  a  shell  hit  the  rat.  It  died  then  and 
there.  Montgomery  looked  at  me  and  I  looked 
at  him,  and  I  gness  both  of  ns  had  the  same 
thought:  even  a  rat  hadn't  a  chance  in  those 
parts. 

After  a  while  the  bombardment  ended,  and 
then  we  started  to  hunt  for  fnrnitnre  in  the 
mined  houses.  We  f  onnd  half  a  dozen  chairs 
and  a  table  with  a  leg  blown  off,  a  stove  pnnc- 
tnred  by  shrapnel,  and  some  crockery,  which 
we  picked  up  in  a  cellar  of  a  building  that 
must  have  been  a  happy  home  when  it  still 
had  all  of  its  three  stories  and  the  winding 
stairway,  of  which  only  parts  were  in  place. 

I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  structure,  and 
looked  into  the  rooms,  from  which  the  roof 
and  ceiling  had  been  blown  off  by  shells.  The 
furniture  was  still  in  the  rooms  and  clothing 
was  strewn  all  over  the  floor.  Everything 
had  been  spoiled  by  rain  and  the  shells  and 
was  on  the  verge  of  falling  apart,  but  for  all 
that  it  was  still  evident  that  it  had  been  occu- 
pied by  people  of  wealth. 

One  of  the  rooms  must  have  been  that  of 
a  young  lady.    In  a  dresser  I  found  a  pink 
68 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 

evening  gown  and  other  articles  of  feminine 
apparel.  I  took  it  for  granted  that  the  owner 
of  the  dress  was  some  beautiful  girl,  and  I 
was  still  wondering  what  she  might  look  like 
when  Montgomery  sneaked  up  the  stairs  and 
shouted  to  me  to  come  down.  I  took  the  gown 
along  and  it  was  one  of  the  treasures  of  the 
mess  until  I  gave  it  to  a  peasant  girl. 

On  the  next  floor  must  have  been  the  room 
of  the  old  man.  We  found  several  pipes  and 
a  pair  of  slippers,  and  a  torn  night  robe. 
Back  of  this  room  was  a  sort  of  conservatory; 
it  had  been  a  pretty  place  once,  but  was  that 
no  longer.  All  the  glass  was  broken  and  the 
flower  pots  and  boxes  lay  pell-mell  on  the 
floor,  with  every  plant  in  them  dead.  We 
examined  the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  and 
found  that  Tommie  had  been  there  before  us. 
In  the  kitchen  we  made  a  haul,  however.  We 
found  there  a  lot  of  dishes,  three  cut  glass 
fruit  platters,  two  soup  tureens,  some  silver 
knives  and  forks,  and  two  kitchen  chairs. 
Then  we  went  to  the  wine  cellar  but  not  a 
drop  did  we  find.  A  lot  of  empties  gave  evi- 
dence that  somebody  had  had  a  good  time  in 
that  cellar.  On  leaving  the  house  I  spied  a 
69 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

book.  It  tnrned  out  to  be  the  Old  and  New 
Testament  in  Dutch,  and  in  it  was  a  card 
which  I  took  to  be  that  of  the  yonng  lady. 
The  Bible  I  sent  to  an  old  church-going  friend 
and  the  card  I  kept  myself. 

We  were  about  to  drive  off  when  we  heard 
a  dull  boom  in  the  distance,  and  a  few  sec- 
onds later  a  big  shell  screeched  over  us  and 
exploded  a  block  away.  There  was  no  time 
to  lose,  but  as  we  made  off  Montgomery  and 
the  boys  sang  a  little  song  from  the  West : 

*'He's  a  bold  bad  man  and  a  desperado, 

Blows  into  town  like  a  big  tornado; 
Steals  all  the  money  from  the  people  in  the 
land, 
He's  a  curly  wolf  at  shooting  with  a  gxm  in 
either  hand.'' 

The  ruins  of  Ypres  were  a  striking  sight. 
It  rather  broke  us  up  to  see  that  beautiful 
and  thrifty  little  town  being  flattened  to  the 
ground.  There  was  an  oppressive  silence  in 
the  streets  during  the  few  moments  when  the 
detonation  of  guns  and  shells  was  not  heard. 

I  looked  at  what  had  once  been  the  famous 
70 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 

Cloth  Hall.  I  had  been  told  by  some  French 
people  that  it  was  one  of  the  finest  buildings 
in  France  and  Belgium,  but  now  all  its  walls 
were  hopelessly  wrecked.  The  parts  of  the 
building  that  had  not  been  blown  up  were  so 
shaky  that  the  concussion  of  nearby  explod- 
ing shells  would  topple  them  over.  There 
was  no  life  in  Ypres — ^nothing  but  rats,  rats, 
and  millions  of  them.  I  went  into  several 
houses  which  had  been  inhabited  by  people 
of  wealth  and  everywhere  met  traces  of  the 
things  which  make  for  refijiement — ^paintings, 
good  furniture,  and  beautiful  candelabras. 
Everything  had  been  wrecked  by  the  Hun. 
Before  long  the  big  guns  of  the  German  bat- 
teries started  and  their  shells  again  began  to 
level  Ypres,  for  which  they  seemed  to  hold  a 
hatred. 

Shortly  after  that  I  had  some  trouble  with 
the  commanding  officer,  with  the  result  that  I 
was  transferred  to  headquarters  as  a  motor 
cycle  dispatch  bearer.  Motor  cycling  on  a 
good  road  is  a  pleasure,  but  on  wet  cobble- 
stones and  in  the  mud  it  is  anything  but  that. 
It  is  impossible  to  go  fast  because  that  shakes 
the  wheel  all  to  pieces  and  is  likely  to  break 
71 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

your  neck,  and  when  you  go  slow  everybody 
gmmbles.  In  a  country  such  as  Flanders, 
especially  when  the  rainy  spell  is  on,  motor 
cycling  keeps  yon  covered  with  mnd  from 
head  to  foot,  and  dispatch  riding  is  the  very 
thing  to  keep  yon  going  day  and  night.  Occa- 
sionally yon  run  into  a  shell-hole  in  the  dark 
and  that  means  that  yonr  shins  are  always 
minus  much  of  their  bark.  Another  feature 
of  dispatch  riding  is  that  you  move  con- 
stantly in  zones  where  a  shell  may  call  you  in 
at  any  moment. 

But  you  aren't  supposed  -to  think  in  the 
Army,  as  I  discovered  again,  when  I  had  used 
my  own  judgment  on  one  little  trip  I  made.  I 
delivered  my  message,  but  on  my  way  back 
I  had  gone  out  of  my  way  to  see  a  pal  who 
was  at  a  wireless  station  further  up  the  line. 

I  was  having  a  chat  with  my  friend  when 
the  signal  officer  came  up  in  his  car  and  saw 
me.  That  was  enough.  On  my  return  to  the 
base  I  was  placed  under  arrest.  In  the  morn- 
ing a  sergeant  escorted  me  to  the  command- 
ing officer. 

That  personage  wanted  to  know  what  I 
had  been  doing  ten  miles  out  of  my  route.    I 
72 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 

told  him  that  I  had  seen  no  harm  in  going  to 
see  my  friend.  The  commanding  officer  could 
not  see  it  that  way.  He  led  me  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  the  brains  of  the  company 
and  that  I  had  no  right  to  think  at  all — ^that 
I  was  there  to  ride.  But  I  got  even  with 
him  after  I  was  made  a  commissioned  officer. 

A  severe  reprimand  was  all  the  punishment 
meted  out  to  me.  That  same  night  I  made  a 
trip  up  to  the  lines  and  was  going  along  at  a 
fairly  good  speed  when  a  scream  and  a  crash 
about  twenty-five  yards  ahead  of  me  sud- 
denly halted  my  progress.  The  next  thing 
I  knew  was  that  I  was  lying  against  the  bank 
on  the  side  of  the  road  some  fifteen  feet  away 
from  the  motor  cycle.  A  pain  in  my  left 
shoulder  told  me  what  part  of  my  body  had 
struck  the  earth  first,  and  when  I  tried  to 
move  my  neck  that  pain  grew  more  intense. 
I  began  to  spit  blood.  My  head  started  to 
buzz. 

I  noticed  that  my  goggles  were  missing  and 
since  I  had  to  send  to  England  for  them,  I 
was  not  anxious  to  lose  them.  I  saw  them 
about  twenty  feet  ahead  of  me  and,  finding 
my  legs  unsteady,  I  rolled  towards  them, 
73 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Before  I  reached  them  I  fell  flat  twice. 
Shortly  afterwards  I  was  picked  up  and  sent 
to  the  base  hospital  and  from  there  to  Eng- 
land. 

Two  months  later  I  was  back  in  France  and 
attached  to  my  old  transport  section.  I  found 
that  there  was  considerable  unrest  among  the 
boys  for  the  reason  that  all  of  them  were  try- 
ing to  get  commissions.  By  this  time  also  I 
had  made  up  my  mind  to  get  into  the  Flying 
Corps.  Scott  and  Beatty,  friends  of  mine, 
had  the  same  ambition,  while  others  of  the  sec- 
tion were  trying  for  other  branches  of  the 
service — Jinamie  Brown  and  Bud  Shore  for 
the  artillery,  Alexander  McCollough  for  the 
machine  gun  section,  and  Dyas  and  Copman 
for  the  infantry. 

We  secured  the  necessary  transfer  forms, 
filled  them  up  and  sent  them  in.  Meanwhile 
we  were  trying  to  get  information  on  the  na- 
ture of  an  officer's  work  in  the  different  units. 
We  had  made  up  our  minds  to  take  a  more 
serious  view  of  army  life,  but  before  I  heard 
anything  from  my  application  I  was  back  on 
the  job  hauling  coal  and  ammunition.  The 
chances  of  getting  into  the  Flying  Corps 
74 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 

seemed  very  remote.  They  seemed  even  re- 
moter when  on  the  first  morning  at  the  dumps 
behind  the  line  a  shell  carried  off  poor  old 
McConnell.  A  steel  fragment  went  through 
his  head.  Poor  Montgomery  was  severely 
wounded  in  the  side  and  though  he  recov- 
ered he  was  never  fit  for  service  after  that. 

Three  days  later  a  Hun  plane  bombed  the 
railhead.  It  dropped  six  bombs,  but  only  two 
of  them  exploded.  But  the  two  did  their 
work,  killing  five  women  and  two  children  and 
a  police  sergeant  and  his  -horse.  I  looked  up 
at  the  plane  and  wished  that  I  could  get  at  it 
for  a  few  minutes.  The  anti-aircraft  guns 
were  working  hard  to  down  the  machine,  but 
did  not  touch  it  at  all. 

While  in  this  sector,  I  saw  lots  of  atrocities 
committed  by  the  Germans.  Although  I  could 
hardly  believe  all  the  stories  I  heard  about 
them,  there  was  no  vestige  of  doubt  left  in 
my  mind  after  seeing  with  my  own  eyes  what 
the  Huns  were  capable  of  doing. 

I  was  driving  up  the  road  one  afternoon 

about  four  o'clock.    The  sky  was  clouded  and 

made  the  devastated  country  look  all  the  more 

lonesome.    Though  ten  miles  behind  the  lines, 

75 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

the  guns  could  be  heard  plainly  and  I  felt 
lonely  and  homesick. 

Beyond  the  little  hill  I  spied  a  low  red 
building  with  a  cross  in  front  of  it,  which  I 
took  to  be  a  convent.  Not  being  in  a  hurry, 
I  thought  'that  I  would  call  on  the  French 
Fathers.  They  are  always  very  interesting 
and  knowing  their  language  and  customs  I 
felt  quite  at  ease  with  them. 

In  response  to  my  knock  at  the  door,  a  sis- 
ter appeared.  She  asked  me  to  come  in  and 
sent  for  one  of  the  fathers.  He  was  a  white- 
haired  old  man  and  dressed  in  a  long  black 
robe  with  a  heavy  leather  belt  around  his 
waist.  A  large  crucifix  was  suspended  from 
his  neck. 

We  began  to  talk  of  the  war  and  he  told  me 
of  a  lot  of  horrors  he  had  seen — of  children 
murdered  by  the  Germans  when  they  came  to 
Belgium,  of  women  outraged,  and  priests  tor- 
tured for  helping  the  Belgian  soldiers.  Then 
he  took  me  to  see  the  little  convent  and  there 
I  saw  sights  which  still  haunt  me. 

We  came  to  a  little  chapel  where  nine  little 
boys  were  kneeling.  Looking  at  them  I  found 
that  not  one  of  them  had  his  right  hand.  All 
76 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 

were  under  twelve  years  old  and  the  yonng- 
est  was  four.  The  little  chap  kept  his  right 
arm  behind  his  back.  It  made  the  blood  run 
cold  in  my  veins  and  I  thought  of  the  chil- 
dren at  home.  I  wanted  some  sort  of  revenge 
on  the  Huns. 

One  of  the  women  in  the  chapel,  the  father 
told  me,  spent  most  of  her  time  praying.  Her 
little  son  had  been  killed  and  her  daughter,  a 
girl  of  seventeen  years  of  age,  had  been  taken 
away  by  the  Huns. 

Later  I  met  many  mothers  to  whom  the 
same  thing  had  happened.  I  also  saw  some 
women  whose  breasts  and  ears  had  been  cut 
off.  They  had  been  tortured  in  the  most 
cruel  ways  imaginable.  When  taking  leave  of 
the  old  father,  I  gave  him  all  the  money  I 
had  on  me,  forty  francs,  for  which  he  thanked 
me.  He  also  presented  me  with  a  little  medal 
of  the  Virgin  Mary  and  blessed  me. 

I  went  away  with  a  heavy  heart.  The 
medal  I  added  to  my  collection.  My  mother 
had  given  me  a  similar  medal  as  had  also 
my  sister.  An  old  priest  who  used  to  labor 
in  the  little  Indian  village  on  the  Sarcee 
Eeservation,  back  home  in  Canada,  had  also 
77 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

given  me  one.  I  had  four  of  them  now,  and 
carried  them  strung  together  with  a  safety 
pin,  safely  stowed  away  in  my  pocket. 

On  arriving  in  camp  I  was  greeted  by  the 
sergeant-major  with  a  torrent  of  bad  lan- 
guage, and  the  order  that  I  proceed  immedi- 
ately with  my  convoy  to  S.,  with  the  seven 
loads  of  ammimition  that  I  was  to  unload  and 
then  return  to  the  railhead.  S.  was  a  little 
place  about  a  mile  behind  our  first  line,  and 
known  for  the  big  shells  the  Huns  used  to  put 
into  it  in  their  effort  to  blow  up  the  ammu- 
nition dump. 

I  had  been  shelled  there  on  a  previous  occa- 
sion and  had  just  turned  into  the  dump,  where 
the  mud  was  hub  deep,  when  the  shells  started 
to  fall.  On  one  side  of  the  road  was  a  shed 
where  the  working  parties  detailed  to  help 
unload  ammunition  were  sheltered  from  the 
weather.  The  first  shell  to-day  fell  into  this 
shed,  killing  fourteen  of  the  men.  I  blew  my 
whistle  as  a  signal  for  my  men  to  take  to 
cover.  This  they  did  by  leaving  their  seats 
and  getting  under  the  lorries.  We  stayed 
there  for  two  hours,  with  a  shell  coming  every 
five  minutes,  which  gave  us  ample  time  to 
78 


WOUNDED  AGAIN 

work  our  way  into  the  ditch  along  the  main 
road.  While  the  body  of  the  lorries  gave  some 
protection,  there  is  no  telling  what  would  have 
happened  had  one  of  the  German  shells  hit  a 
lorry  loaded  with  ammunition  or  the  depot 
itself.  As  luck  would  have  it,  however,  the 
shells  fell  everywhere  but  in  the  dump;  so 
we  thanked  our  stars,  and  when  the  bombard- 
ment was  over  unloaded  the  vehicles  in  record 
time.  We  had  lost  some  time  and  went  to 
the  railhead  at  a  good  speed,  where  I  was 
informed  that  the  commanding  officer  wanted 

to  see  me. 
6 


CHAPTER  yn 

JOINING  THE   FLYING   CORPS 

I  HAD  visions  of  more  trouble  on  report- 
ing, but  I  was  told  by  the  officer  that  I  was 
to  fill  out  my  papers  for  the  Flying  Corps, 
^nd  that  he  would  recommend  my  transfer  to 
that  branch  of  service.  I  could  have  kissed 
him  right  then  and  there  so  glad  was  I 
to  have  his  consent  and  recommendation.  I 
walked  and  rode  eight  miles  up  the  lines  to 
&id  a  doctor  I  knew.  He  was  at  a  field  dress- 
ing station,  but  I  was  determined  to  reach 
him.  One  of  the  road  sentries  challenged  me 
and  I  was  told  that  he  could  not  allow  me  to 
pass  because  a  raid  was  on.  I  walked  back 
and  when  out  of  sight  of  the  picket  cut  across 
the  fields  on  my  hands  and  knees  and  in  that 
manner  got  beyond  him.  I  was  taking  a 
chance  of  being  shot  for  disobeying  the 
picket  ^s  orders,  but  I  had  to  see  the  doctor 
that  night. 

80 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  CORPS 

I  had  not  gone  fifty  yards  when  I  heard 
*'HaltI   Who  goes  there!'* 

Since  I  had  not  seen  anybody,  the  order 
was  a  shock  to  me.  I  nearly  dropped  from 
fright  and  answered  in  a  weak  little  voice: 
^'Friend." 

The  picket  made  me  advance  and  now  I 
conld  see  his  bayonet  glisten  in  the  moon- 
light. He  wanted  to  know  what  I  was  doing 
there.  But  instead  of  taking  a  sympathetic 
view  of  it  he  began  to  curse  me  in  the  roxmd- 
est  of  terms.  He  was  a  reasonable  per- 
son, however,  for  after  a  little  while  he  per- 
mitted me  to  go  on.  It  so  happened  that  I 
knew  several  men  in  his  battalion  and 
that  seemed  to  remove  all  doubt  from  his 
mind  that  I  was  everything  that  I  claimed 
to  be. 

After  much  hunting  I  found  the  field  dress- 
ing-station, but  the  doctor  was  busy  at  the 
time  dressing  wounds. 

One  of  the  wounded  men  was  a  *' Jock,''  or 
a  Scotchman,  who  had  been  hit  in  the  leg. 
The  sergeant  put  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth  and 
lit  it ;  then  he  opened  the  man's  coat  and  shirt 
and  with  a  syringe  as  big  as  they  use  on 
81 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

horses  he  inoculated  the  **  Jock"  against  tet- 
anus poisoning,  saying: 

** Jock,  I'll  give  you  a  hundred  francs  for 
that  blighty.'*    But  the  Scotchman  replied: 

**Ah,  mon!  it's  worth  that  much  for  the 
thought  of  Scotland,  and  the  blighty  is  worth 
it  ten  times.  Why,  I  laid  me  doon  in  a  shell 
hole  in  No  Man's  Land  and  put  that  foot  up 
in  the  air  and  I  waited  for  a  hoor  and  a  half 
before  the  bullet  hit  me.  No,  not  for  a  thou- 
sand francs  this  blighty.'* 

Another  poor  chap  had  a  leg  shattered, 
which  had  to  be  amputated,  and  no  one  offered 
him  anything  for  that.  But  the  doctor  was 
very  tender  with  him  and  soon  he  was  on  his 
way  to  the  base  whence  he  would  be  sent  to 
England. 

At  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  the 
doctor  was  through  and  then  I  went  to  his 
dugout. 

He  seemed  glad  to  see  me.  As  he  grabbed 
me  he  shouted : 

**Why,  you  flea-bitten,  horse-riding,  buck- 
jumping  old  son-of-a-gun,  how  in  the 

are  you!" 

The  doctor  had  a  little  cache  in  his  dugout 
82 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  COEPS 

and  out  of  that  he  took  a  bottle  that  contained 
something  stronger  than  water.  Then  I  told 
him  what  I  had  come  for.  I  had  known  the 
doctor  in  the  United  States  and  he  had  not 
forgotten  old  times  despite  the  fact  that  he 
was  a  Major.  He  looked  at  me  quizzically 
after  I  had  stated  the  nature  of  my  errand, 
and  said : 

*^I  ought  to  examine  your  head.  I  am  sure 
that  you  are  plumb  locoed.  I  won't  sign 
your  papers  for  the  Flying  Corps,  for  I 
think  that  you  are  close  enough  to  death 
here." 

We  argued  the  point  for  a  few  minutes  and 
then  he  signed  them,  nevertheless.  I  left  the 
doctor  with  a  promise  that  I  would  write  to 
him  and  let  him  know  how  I  got  along. 

That  was  not  all  the  signing  that  had  to  be 
done.  Somebody  had  to  attest  my  character ; 
another  my  mechanical  knowledge  and  educa- 
tion. I  thought  that  a  friend  of  mine  of  the 
name  of  Starrett  could  attest  to  the  latter,  but 
he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  sign  the  paper. 
But  after  talking  to  him  until  I  was  blue  in  the 
face,  he  did  as  requested,  and  then  I  started 
back  for  my  imit  with  his  good  luck  wishes. 

83 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I  arrived  in  camp  at  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

The  day  for  which  I  had  been  hoping  so 
long  had  finally  come,  so  that,  despite  the  ex- 
ertions of  the  night,  I  felt  in  fine  fettle. 
After  cleaning  up  I  went  to  the  commanding 
officer  and  handed  him  the  papers,  now  pro- 
vided with  the  necessary  signatures.  A  little 
later  I  had  the  consent  of  the  Division  Gen- 
eral, and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  following 
day  I  reported  to  an  air  squadron  for  my 
mechanical  examination. 

A  week  later  I  was  attached  to  a  squadron 
as  gunner  on  probation,  and  there  the  game 
began. 

I  was  not  yet  an  aviator.  The  command- 
ing officer  of  the  squadron  told  me  that  I 
would  have  to  take  a  turn  in  the  trenches  for 
a  week  or  so  to  learn  what  infantrymen  had 
to  go  through.  After  that  I  was  to  do  a  week 
in  the  artillery,  and  still  later  I  would  have  a 
week  in  the  squadron  school.  After  that  he 
sent  me  to  a  battery  then  in  the  first  line. 
There  I  was  turned  over  to  the  Quartermaster 
to  be  fitted  out  with  the  necessaries  for  trench 
warfare,  which  consisted  principally  of  a  web 
84 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  COEPS 

equipment  for  carrying  everything  one  needa^ 
in  a  trench,  pockets  for  anununition,  trench- 
ing tool,  tin  hat,  mess  Mt,  and  gas  hebnet. 
The  load  was  heavy  enough  for  any  pack  mule. 
I  had  not  joined  the  army  to  take  the  role  of 
that  animal,  but  it  was  my  first  step  to  escajK 
ing  into  the  Flying  Corps,  and  I  would  have 
gone  through  an  ordeal  ten  times  as  bad  to 
attain  that  end. 

I  reported  at  Headquarters  at  W.  P.,  and 
from  there  I  was  taken  into  the  front  lines, 
and  within  a  week  I  saw  more  soldiering  than 
had  been  my  lot  since  coming  to  France.  I 
was  given  into  the  charge  of  the  company 
commander,  whose  unit  was  just  then  on  duty 
in  the  first-line  trenches.  The  same  night  part 
of  that  company  went  out  on  a  raid  and  I 
was  one  of  them.  We  sneaked  into  No  Man's 
Land  and  over  to  the  Hun  wire. 

I  had  never  received  special  training  in  that 
line  of  work,  but  I  watched  the  others  and  did 
likewise.  I  had  been  equipped  with  a  gun 
bayonet  and  knew  how  to  throw  a  bomb. 

The  covering  party  was  ahead  of  us,  but 
before  long  we  also  were  near  the  Hun  wire. 
Just  then  a  star  shell  went  up  and  we  all 
85 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

dropped  on  our  stomachs.  I  was  frightened 
to  death  as  the  machine  guns  started  to  work 
and  mud  and  small  stones  began  to  fly  all 
around  us.  And  it  seemed  that  all  the  ma- 
chine guns  in  the  Hun  army  were  turned 
on  me.  The  steel  helmet  began  to  hurt 
my  head,  for  I  was  not  used  to  it.  The  wet 
ground  added  to  my  discomfort,  and  I  wished 
myself  back  in  the  old  transport  section.  The 
wait  on  the  wet  grounds  seemed  intermi- 
nable, but  suddenly  a  number  of  explosions 
near  by  made  me  stop  thinking  entirely 
and  the  chap  next  to  me  whispered  into 
my  ears : 

**  Come  on,  boy !  the  covering  party  is  bomb- 
ing them." 

We  rushed  over  to  the  wire  and  I  tore  my- 
self considerably  getting  through  the  en- 
tanglement. It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had 
attempted  so  risky  a  business.  But  I  seemed 
to  have  managed  it  well  enough,  for  pres- 
ently I  stood  on  a  German  parapet. 

I  halted  there  for  a  moment  and  then  see- 
ing the  other  men  inside  the  trenches  I  jumped 
in,  landing  in  the  bay  back  of  a  traverse  all 
alone. 

86 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  CORPS 

From  near  by  came  voices  speaking  Ger- 
man. I  stood  stock  still  for  a  minute.  Shonts 
came  and  I  knew  that  some  of  our  fellows 
were  mixing  it  with  the  enemy.  The  noise 
came  from  the  left  and  seemed  to  be  coming 
nearer. 

The  only  thing  that  occurred  to  me  then  was 
to  move  towards  the  scene  of  the  action.  Just 
as  I  was  rounding  the  corner  of  the  traverse 
I  came  face  to  face  with  a  Hun  who  was  com- 
ing out  of  a  dugout.  For  a  moment  the  man 
stopped  and  then,  muttering  something  about 
British  swine,  he  started  for  me.  I  lunged 
with  rifle  and  bayonet  as  hard  as  I  could  right 
for  his  stomach.  The  man  fell  back  with  a 
yell  and  would  have  pulled  me  into  the  dug- 
out with  him  if  I  had  not  let  go  of  the  rifle. 
From  behind  I  heard  steps  approaching.  I 
took  one  of  my  hand  grenades,  pulled  the  pin, 
and  was  about  to  throw  it  at  the  forms  which 
loomed  in  the  dark,  when  I  recognized  the 
first  one  of  them  as  the  company  commander. 
He  said,  "Come  on,  we've  been  here  too 
long,'*  and  I  thought  of  how  much  longer  he 
would  have  stayed,  if  I  had  thrown  the  bomb. 
He  was  just  coming  around  the  corner  of  a 
87 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

bay  in  the  trench,  and  behind  him  \^as  a  gang 
of  Huns. 

So  far  as  we  knew  there  were  only  two  of 
US,  and  to  judge  by  the  noise  they  were  mak- 
ing the  Germans  were  coming  in  force.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  retreat,  and  with  that 
in  view  we  got  over  the  top  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, and  started  for  our  own  trenches. 

The  whole  action  had  taken  place  within 
about  thirty  minutes,  but  I  was  so  excited 
over  sticking  the  Hun  that  it  seemed  much 
longer.  However,  the  exhilaration  of  my  ex- 
ploit soon  left  me  when  the  boys  told  me  that 
one  of  them,  during  a  previous  raid,  had  stuck 
thirty  Germans.  After  that  I  felt  that  my  one 
was  not  much.  But  I  have  seen  that  Hun  fall 
back  into  his  dugout  a  thousand  times  since 
then. 

I  learned  that  we  had  captured  fifteen  pris- 
oners who  were  of  the  227th  Bavarians.  They 
were  sent  back  to  headquarters  to  be  exam- 
ined, and  were  later  taken  to  a  prison  camp 
in  France  or  England. 

One  of  the  Germans  spoke  good  Eng- 
lish and  I  talked  with  him.  He  had  lived  in 
America  until  six  months  before  the  war,  and 
88 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  COEPS 

had  worked  in  a  butcher  shop  in  Chicago.  He 
wished  that  he  was  back  there  now. 

I  spent  a  part  of  that  night  toasting  my 
shins  in  a  dugout,  drinking  tea  and  eating 
bread  with  tinned  Nova  Scotian  butter  on  it. 
After  that  I  had  a  sound  sleep,  which  was  all 
too  short,  for  early  in  the  morning  I  had  to 
join  a  party  that  was  to  bring  out  rations. 

I  was  doing  real  soldiering  now  and  had 
many  a  thrill.  In  the  same  afternoon  I  was 
going  through  a  section  of  the  trench  when  a 
shell  from  a  German  trench  mortar  landed  in 
it  and  knocked  in  its  wall.  At  the  same  spot 
our  company  commander,  Captain  Kenville, 
was  killed  by  a  sniper  shortly  afterward. 
The  company  Sergeant-Major  was  the  first  to 
see  him.  The  officer  was  still  breathing  but 
unconscious,  and  the  Sergeant-Major  yelled 
for  stretcher-bearers  on  the  double  quick. 
The  bearers  ran  up  and  we  placed  Captain 
Eenville  on  the  stretcher  as  carefully  as  we 
could.  He  was  then  taken  to  a  dressing  or 
first-aid  station. 

The  occurrence  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  us.  The  captain  was  a  very  fine  man, 
and  we  regretted  his  misfortune.  I  was  tum- 
89 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ing  things  over  in  my  mind  when  I  heard 
somebody  behind  me  sob.  Turning  around 
I  saw  the  Sergeant-Major  in  tears,  and  that 
caused  me  to  cry  myself.  I  had  only  known 
the  captain  for  three  days,  but  I  had  learned 
to  like  him  very  much.  To  the  rest  of  the 
company  the  officer  had  been  a  brother  and  a 
leader. 

We  learned  that  night  that  Captain  Een- 
ville  had  died,  and  this  increased  our  sorrow. 
The  men  sat  around  gloomily,  and  the  silence 
was  only  broken  by  solemn  vows  of  future  re- 
venge. The  resolutions  that  were  heard 
would  have  put  the  fear  of  God  into  the  Hun 
who  fired  the  shot  had  he  heard  them.  I 
gueig  that  a  lot  of  these  vows  were  carried 
out.  I  wished  to  comfort  the  boys,  but,  you 
see,  they  wanted  to  be  left  alone  to  mourn 
their  loss.  It  was  not  until  the  day  before  I 
left  that  any  of  them  spoke  much,  outside  of 
taking  and  giving  orders.  Some  of  us  went 
to  the  funeral  of  Captain  Eenville,  and  there 
I  felt  as  bad  as  if  I  had  lost  my  own  brother. 

The  scenes  of  the  death  and  burial  of  Cap- 
tain Renville  were  before  my  eyes  most  viv- 
idly all  that  day.  I  could  still  hear  the  bugle 
90 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  CORPS 

sound  the  last  post,  and  though  I  had  heard 
it  on  several  occasions  before,  and  had  lis- 
tened to  the  last  salute  of  the  firing  party,  it 
seemed  to  make  my  blood  run  colder  to-day 
than  ever  before.  These  honors  meant  recog- 
nition of  the  fact  that  a  man  had  sacrificed'all 
for  King  and  Country.  It  was  not  my  King 
nor  was  it  my  country,  so  I  wanted  my  coun- 
try's emblem  with  me  when  I  died;  for  I 
never  expected  to  get  out  of  this  mess  alive. 
I  always  carried  a  large  American  flag  with 
me  for  that  purpose.  Later,  when  I  had  be- 
come an  officer,  I  hung  it  up  in  my  hut.  An 
Englishman  came  in  one  night  and  made 
rather  caustic  remarks  about  the  U.  S.  A. 
Well,  so  far  as  that  went,  American  men  could 
take  care  of  themselves,  and  when  I  told  him 
we  had  once  whipped  England  he  grew  angry 
and  we  mixed  it.  I  gave  him  a  black  eye,  and 
he  came  back  and  apologized  to  me  in  the 
morning. 

I  stayed  the  rest  of  the  week  in  the  trenches 
and  had  a  number  of  unusual  experiences. 
One  day  a  Tommie  with  whom  I  had  grown 
chummy,  and  who  was  trying  to  get  into  the 
Flying  Corps,  took  me  to  an  old  trench  from 
91 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

whicli  the  retaining  boards  had  been  removed. 
He  wanted  to  show  me  some  German  dead  who 
had  been  buried  in  the  bottom  of  the  trench. 
There  was  hardly  anything  left  except  grin- 
ning skulls,  but  what  impressed  me  most  was 
the  fact  that  their  boots  were  still  on  their 
feet;  I  thought  of  the  old  saying:  **He  died 
with  his  boots  on.'' 

Then  the  man  told  me  a  story  of  two  Irish- 
men to  whom  had  been  issued  some  of  the 
bad  boots  that  were  sold  to  the  British  Gov- 
ernment in  the  early  days  of  the  war.  Some 
of  these  boots  lasted  three  hours.  As  soon 
as  they  got  wet,  the  soles,  which  were  made 
of  ground  cork  and  glue  pressed  together, 
fell  away  and  after  that  the  man  was  bare- 
footed. 

The  Irishmen,  having  no  soles  on  their 
boots,  decided  to  get  a  pair  of  the  kind  issued 
to  the  Hun  soldiers.  They  asked  the  com- 
pany commander  if  they  could  go  out  on  pa- 
trol that  night.  The  officer  looked  at  them 
somewhat  puzzled,  and  asked  why  they 
wanted  to  take  such  long  chances  on  their 
necks. 

Patrick  answered  that  he  wanted  a  pair  of 
92 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  COEPS 

Htm  boots.  The  company  commander 
laughed,  and  finally  gave  his  consent. 

That  night  the  two  went  out  separately, 
and  when  they  got  back  into  their  own  trench 
Pat  said  to  Mike : 

**Well,  Mike,  how  did  you  make  outf 

"Fine,"  said  Mike;  **the  first  one  I  killed 
had  boots  of  my  size." 

With  that  he  showed  Pat  the  boots,  asking 
at  the  same  time:  "And  how  did  you  make 
outt" 

*  *  Very  badly, ' '  replied  Pat ; "  I  killed  twelve 
of  them,  and  not  one  of  them  had  boots  that 
would  fit  me." 

"What  size  do  you  wear?"  asked  Mike. 

"Eleven,"  said  Pat. 

"Well,  begorra!  It's  not  boots  you  want; 
it's  the  box  they  come  in." 

An  Irish  argument  ensued  and  Pat  was  sent 
to  the  Quartermaster  for  a  new  pair  of  boots. 

A  few  nights  before  I  returned  to  Squad- 
ron Headquarters,  I  was  sent  into  No  Man's 
Land  as  a  member  of  a  working  party  that 
was  to  put  in  some  new  barbed  wire  and  pick- 
ets. We  carried  the  material  through  a  sap 
which  ran  underneath  our  own  wires,  and 
93 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

when  we  got  out  of  the  sap  we  all  felt  as  big 
as  a  house,  and  we  were  sure  that  the  Huns 
would  see  us. 

I  could  not  imagine  how  they  could  miss 
me.  Our  conversation  was  in  whispers,  and 
that  added  considerably  to  that  tired  feeling. 
I  suffered  from  nervous  shock  every  time  the 
mauls  descended  upon  a  picket.  We  worked 
fast  and  furiously,  and  I  had  lost  much  of  my 
nervousness  when  somebody  near  me  whis- 
pered : 

^'Getdownl    Get  down!'' 

We  all  laid  down  right  where  we  were  and 
waited.  The  working  party  is  protected  by 
the  patrol,  and  that  patrol  had  warned  us. 
We  waited  until  we  got  another  call  that 
everything  was  clear  and  went  to  work  again. 
After  that  every  time  a  maul  hit  a  post  it 
sounded  to  me  like  a  12-inch  gun.  Presently 
the  Huns  started  to  send  up  star  shells  for 
the  purpose  of  finding  where  the  noise  came 
from.  By  that  time  we  were  down  again,  of 
course.  But  the  enemy  took  a  chance  with 
their  machine  guns  in  the  direction  from 
which  the  noise  had  come.  The  bullets  went 
to  one  side  of  us,  however.  The  firing  did  not 
/  94 


JOINING  THE  FLYING  CORPS 

last  long,  and  then  we  resumed  our  labor ;  bnt 
I  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  when  we  were 
through  with  the  job,  and  we  were  back  in  the 
second-line  dugout  with  a  kettle  full  of  tea 
and  some  chuck. 

Two  days  later  I  was  called  in  by  the  com- 
manding officer  and  ordered  to  return  to  my 
unit.  His  report  of  me,  he  said,  he  would  send 
in  by  telephone.  I  surrendered  my  equip- 
ment, said  good-bye  to  the  boys  I  had  met, 
and  started  for  Squadron  Headquarters.  I 
had  gone  about  two  miles  on  my  way  back 
when  I  passed  something  that  resembled  a 
house.  Part  of  the  chimney  was  shot  off,  and 
the  windows  were  all  broken.  The  ruin  was 
similar  to  many  others  one  could  find  around 
that  part  of  the  country. 

Of  a  sudden  the  front  of  the  structure  slid 
to  one  side  and  a  roar  like  a  clap  of  thunder 
came  out  of  it.  Then  followed  a  burst  of 
smoke  and  a  glimpse  of  the  long,  great  barrel 
of  a  heavy  gun  settling  on  the  recoil,  and  then 
the  front  of  the  house  slid  back — camouflage. 
For  some  minutes  there  was  an  awful  ringing 
in  my  ears,  and  I  had  to  hunt  for  my  cap, 
which  had  been  blown  off  my  head.  I  found 
7  95 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

it  under  the  leafless  branclies  of  a  tree  across 
the  road,  and  near  it  were  the  bodies  of  four 
€mall  birds  which  had  been  killed  by  the  con- 
cussion. 


CHAPTER  Vni 


MY  FIEST  FLIGHT 


Upoit  my  arrival  at  squadron  headquarters 
I  reported  to  the  commanding  officer,  who 
called  in  one  of  the  flight  commanders.  The 
two  of  them  discussed  for  a  while  as  to  what 
pilot  was  to  take  me  np  on  a  trial  trip,  and 
when  this  serions  business  had  been  disposed 
of,  I  was  sent  to  the  quartermaster  of  the 
aerodrome  to  be  fitted  out  with  the  requisites 
of  the  flyer.  These  consist  of  a  helmet,  leather 
coat,  fur  gloves,  and  goggles. 

The  pilot  with  whom  I  was  to  fly  told  me  to 
take  the  front  seat  of  the  machine  and  strap 
myself  in.  While  I  was  attending  to  that  my 
nerves  seemed  a  little  bit  unruly.  The  mo- 
ment for  which  I  had  hoped  so  much  was 
come  at  last,  but  my  sensations  were  not  ex- 
actly what  I  had  imagined  they  would  be. 

As  I  fastened  each  strap  around  me  the 
risks  of  aviation  became  more  real.  Though 
97 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I  had  often  dwelt  on  the  fact  that  there  are  no 
landing  places  in  the  air,  the  straps  brought 
to  me  full  realization  that  whatever  happened 
to  the  airplane  would  happen  to  me.  There 
was  no  getting  away  from  the  machine  in  case 
something  went  wrong. 

But  there  was  no  time  for  philosophizing. 
The  pilot  took  his  seat  behind  me,  strapped 
himself  in,  tested  various  levers  and  contriv- 
ances ;  in  the  meantime  somebody  started  the 
motor  of  the  plane  running. 

I  noticed  that  several  men  were  holding  the 
machine  back  until  the  propeller  should  have 
gained  the  speed  necessary 'to  give  us  a  good 
start  across  the  field. 

I  do  not  remember  whether  the  pilot  gave 
the  signal  that  he  was  ready  by  word  or  by  a 
gesture.  Anyway,  of  a  sudden  the  machine 
started  to  move,  began  to  **taxi"  across  the 
field,  and  gained  momentum  with  each  in- 
stant. 

It  is  hard  to  describe  the  sensation  I  had 
when  the  kite  was  finally  in  motion.  I  re- 
member that  the  pilot  opened  the  engine  out 
and  that  the  earth  seemed  to  roll  from  under 
us,  though  the  bumping  of  the  wheels  on  the 
98 


MY  FIEST  FLIGHT 

ground  reminded  me  that  we  were  still  **  taxi- 
ing." 

Of  a  sndden  the  bnmping  ceased  and  we 
seemed  suspended  in  mid-air.  But  the  wheels 
hit  some  other  high  places,  showing  that  as 
yet  we  were  not  off  the  ground.  Once  more 
the  machine  was  being  supported  on  its  wings. 
I  hoped  that  the  wheels  would  touch  ground 
again,  but  hoped  in  vain. 

The  motor  was  speeding  up  now  and  the 
peculiar  swaying  motion  of  the  machine  left 
no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  we  had  left  the 
ground  for  good. 

I  noticed  that  the  airplane  was  flying  stead- 
ily enough,  but  for  all  that  I  felt  the  uneasi- 
ness which  is  experienced  by  the  person  who 
is  at  sea  for  the  first  time.  The  slightest  de- 
parture of  the  machine  from  its  horizontal 
course  threatened  to  upset  my  stomach. 

But  before  long  interest  in  the  things  un- 
derneath me  overcame  that  sensation.  The 
earth  was  receding  in  the  most  peculiar  man- 
ner. I  told  myself  that  we  were  going  up,  but 
still  the  idea  that  remained  uppermost  in  my 
mind  was  that  the  earth  was  dropping  away 
from  us. 

99 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

We  began  to  climb  up  and  up.  I  was  be- 
ginning to  enjoy  this  when  of  a  sudden  the 
engine  stopped.  My  heart  went  into  my 
mouth.  And  I  said  to  myself,  *  Willie,  you're 
a  dead  one.  *  I  expected  to  fall.  But  the  ma- 
chine continued  on  an  evel  keel,  and  from  back 
of  me  came  two  sharp  raps.  Then  I  was  sure 
I  was  gone. 

I  looked  around  and  saw  the  pilot  smiling. 
He  was  saying  something  which  I  had  great 
difficulty  in  understanding.  But  from  his  lips 
I  read  the  question : 

**How  do  you  like  it!'* 

I  replied  that  I  liked  it  well  enough,  and 
judged  from  the  searching  look  in  the  eyes 
behind  the  goggles  that  the  pilot  was  very 
much  interested  in  ascertaining  the  state  of 
my  nerves.  The  result  of  his  scrutiny  must 
have  been  satisfactory  to  him,  for  presently 
he  began  to  point  out  the  objects  on  the 
ground,  which  was  now  far  below  us.  We 
were  then  some  eight  thousand  feet  above 
the  ground. 

The  pilot  drew  my  attention  to  lines  on  the 
ground — ^mere  pencil  marks — and  he  told  me 
that  these  were  the  trenches  and  communica- 
100 


MY  FiRST'Fmini-  -.^i  U'-n/' 

tion  ditches,  and  I  thought  how  mnch  safer 
the  boys  in  the  trenches  were,  even  with  the 
mud  and  rats.  The  lines  stretched  out  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  were  parallel  in 
the  main,  though  here  and  there  they  diverged 
a  little  to  come  closer  to  one  another  at  some 
other  place.  Over  and  near  the  lines  wide 
puffs  of  smoke  appeared.  They  were  caused 
by  exploding  shells.  I  began  to  listen  for  the 
detonations,  but  the  noise  of  the  motor  made 
it  impossible  for  me  to  hear  anything  else. 

So  long  as  the  puffs  of  smoke  stayed  near 
the  ground  and  the  trenches,  all  was  well,  I 
concluded.  But  I  remembered  the  Hun  avia- 
tor's fate  at  Ypres,  and  wondered  how  long 
it  would  be  before  those  beautiful  little  smoke 
puffs  would  come  nearer  to  us. 

"While  I  was  still  wondering  a  flash  ahead 
of  us  rent  the  air.  It  was  yellow  and  intense. 
The  next  moment  a  round  powder  puff  took  its 
place,  and  from  this  began  to  curl  in  all  di- 
rections smoke  ribbons  which  the  fragments 
of  the  exploding  shell  were  drawing  after 
them. 

I  looked  around  at  the  pilot.  He  said  noth- 
ing, but  held  up  two  warning  fingers,  while 
101 


'.  i ;-  i ;:  ^TEEB  JX^NG  FIGHTER 

over  his  face  went  an  expression  of  disdain. 

Four  other  shrapnel  shells  exploded  near 
us,  and  there  was  now  no  donbt  in  my  mind 
that  ** Archie"  was  very  busy  with  his  anti- 
aircraft battery. 

The  Hun  aircraft  batteries,  however,  did 
not  seem  to  be  as  greatly  interested  in  us  as 
they  might  have  been,  and  after  a  while  their 
efforts  to  bring  us  down  ceased. 

I  was  once  more  able  to  watch  things  be- 
neath us.  The  earth  looked  flat  now.  Hill 
and  dale  had  disappeared.  We  sailed  over  a 
forest  and  I  found  that  it  looked  like  a  lawn. 
Only  its  darker  green  separated  it  from  the 
remainder  of  the  landscape.  The  farmhouses 
were  the  size  of  a  match  box  and  the  fields 
around  them  seemed  parts  of  a  checkerboard. 
Men  could  not  be  seen  at  all.  Two  little  towns 
over  which  we  flew  looked  about  a  foot  square. 

I  was  enjoying  this  very  much  when  of  a 
sudden  the  engine  stopped  once  more.  Some- 
how I  had  learned  to  look  upon  that  motor  as 
something  human,  and  I  found  myself  uncon- 
sciously appealing  to  it  to  start  again.  I 
knew,  of  course,  that  the  machine  could  vol- 
plane— ^glide — ^to  earth,  but  I  was  not  so  sure 
102 


MY  FIEST  FLIGHT 

that  this  particular  pilot,  despite  his  great 
repntation,  was  really  the  man  to  bring  me 
safely  back  to  earth. 

The  list  of  the  machine  forward  made  an- 
other severe  attack  npon  my  nerves.  I  sur- 
mised that  the  pilot  intended  to  glide.  What 
I  feared  most,  however,  was  that  he  might  at- 
tempt to  do  some  of  the  fancy  tricks  aviators 
are  fond  of,  especially  when  they  have  novices 
aboard.  There  might  be  somersaults,  just 
plain  or  corkscrew  fashion,  and  I  was  quite 
sure  that  anything  of  the  sort  would  be  too 
much  for  me. 

But  this  did  not  seem  to  be  the  intention  of 
the  pilot.  I  had  hardly  found  comfort  in  that 
thought  when  I  noticed  that  the  speed  of  the 
machine  was  now  so  terrific  that  the  wire 
stays  began  to  scream  and  whistle.  The  sen- 
sation of  great  speed  overwhelmed  me. 
Everything  began  to  revolve  about  me,  and 
I  had  to  keep  my  eyes  off  the  earth  in  order 
not  to  grow  sick.  It  was  not  the  motion  of 
the  machine  alone  that  caused  this  sensation, 
but  the  great  speed  at  which  the  earth  seemed 
to  be  coming  up  to  meet  us. 

Minutes  seemed  hours  long,  and  with  each 
103 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

second  my  prayers  that  this  would  soon  be 
over  grew  more  fervent.  I  was  suffering  all 
the  tortures  man  ever  imagined. 

Of  a  sudden  the  machine  lurched.  The  in- 
creased pressure  against  the  plane  could  be 
felt  by  a  tautness  that  went  over  every  part 
of  it,  my  own  body  and  mind  included.  The 
next  moment  I  noticed  that  the  wire  stays 
were  no  longer  singing,  and  then,  to  my  great 
surprise,  I  noticed  that  we  were  directly  above 
the  aerodrome. 

The  realization  that  this  trip  would  soon  be 
over  was  a  great  relief.  But  another  fear 
seized  me.  We  were  not  far  from  the  ground 
now,  but  were  still  going  at  such  a  speed  that 
the  machine  coming  in  contact  with  the 
ground  would  certainly  be  smashed;  so,  at 
least,  I  thought. 

That  was  not  the  case,  however,  though  the 
bounce  we  got  when  the  wheels  first  touched 
showed  me  that  it  was  indeed  well  to  be 
strapped  into  the  seat.  The  strain  of  my  body 
against  the  leather  was  such  that  the  straps 
creaked,  and  I  would  have  been  catapulted 
out  of  the  machine  had  it  not  been  for  the 
safeguarding  strap. 

104 


MY  FIEST  FLIGHT 

After  the  first  bonnce  the  machine  traveled 
another  short  distance  on  its  planes,  hit  the 
gronnd  once  more,  rose  again,  and  then  taxied 
np  to  the  shed. 

I  unstrapped  myself  and  then  climbed  out 
of  the  machine.  I  was  glad  to  be  once  more  on 
solid  gronnd  even  thongh  it  did  heave  a  bit. 

The  impression  that  my  first  flight  made 
upon  me  was  shown  by  a  dream  I  had  that 
night.  I  dreamed  that  I  was  np  in  the  air 
higher  than  anybody  had  ever  been  before, 
and  that  the  machine  suddenly  broke  up  into 
small  parts.  I  was  plunging  down  trying  to 
catch  these  parts  and  was  just  about  to  hit 
the  ground  when  I  discovered  that  I  was  on 
the  floor  near  my  bunk. 

Next  morning  I  learned  that  the  Hun  shrap- 
nel had  not  been  as  innocuous  as  I  had  imag- 
ined. There  were  several  holes  in  the  planes 
of  the  nrachine  which  must  have  been  made  by 
the  contents  of  the  shell  which  exploded  be- 
hind us,  and  which  I  could  not  see  from  my 
seat  in  front.  But  old  ** Archie''  had  been  a 
little  off-color  in  his  shooting,  as  he  generally 
is. 

I  was  discussing  our  trip  with  the  pilot  who 
105 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

•had  taken  me  up,  Lieut.  R ,  when  an  or- 
derly came  out  and  told  me  that  I  was  to  re- 
port at  headquarters.  There  I  was  told  that 
I  was  to  be  sent  to  a  battery  of  sixty-pounders 
to  learn  what  I  could  about  artillery. 

The  next  stage  in  my  training  as  aviator 
was  accomplished  in  that  battery. 

Much  of  my  life,  while  attached  to  the  bat- 
tery, I  spent  in  a  dugout,  which  was  com- 
fortable enough;  besides,  the  bugs  had  been 
trained  to  leave  strangers  alone — so,  at  least, 
the  Sergeant-Major  said.  But  in  that,  as  in 
other  things,  he  was  mistaken.  The  insects 
took  a  violent  liking  to  me  and  inside  of  three 
days  I  had  the  finest  collection  of  them  the 
battery  could  boast  of. 

I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  new  sport 
while  with  the  battery.  A  saucer  serves  for 
an  arena.  Into  this  one  puts  a  kootie  and  a 
flea.  A  vicious  fight  results  and  on  the  out- 
come of  that  the  boys  bet.  The  combat  gen- 
erally ends  in  favor  of  the  flea. 

During  the  third  night  of  my  stay  with  the 
battery,  about  eleven  o'clock,  I  was  awak- 
ened by  a  heavy  explosion.    I  started  to  my 
feet,  but  before  I  could  find  myself  another 
106 


MY  FIRST  FLIGHT 

explosion  came,  I  made  for  the  snrface  and 
jnst  as  I  reached  there  another  bang  close  by- 
shook  me  off  my  feet.  In  my  hnrry  to  get 
back  into  the  dngont  I  missed  the  first  step 
and  landed  unceremoniously  at  the  bottom.  I 
flew  through  the  sacking  which  serves  as  a 
door  and  lit  on  one  of  the  gunners  who  slept 
in  the  corner  of  the  dugout. 

The  man  was  so  used  to  night  bombard- 
ments that  he  did  not  mind  the  noise  of  the 
shells.  But  he  thought  differently  of  the  dis- 
turbance I  was  causing.  His  flow  of  language 
was  very  sulphurous  and  included  a  peremp- 
tory command  that  I  shut  the  door.  He 
opined  that  it  was  a  shame  to  send  a  **mutt" 
like  me  down  to  a  battery  to  create  trouble 
and  attract  gun  fire  to  a  gang  of  peaceful 
gunners. 

The  battery  was  shelled  for  three  nights 
running  and  I  was  blamed  for  it.  Before  my 
arrival  the  battery  had  been  living  peacefully 
enough,  they  said,  and  while  they  granted  that 
I  had  made  no  deal  with  the  Germans,  they 
still  insisted  that  I  was  a  Jonah.  Whereupon 
I  returned  to  my  little  two  by  twice  comer 
and  went  to  sleep. 

107 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I  was  put  to  work,  however.  I  assisted  in 
loading  one  of  the  big  guns  and  as  a  special 
favor  I  was  permitted  to  yank  the  lanyard  a 
couple  of  times.  Then  they  tried  to  explain 
sighting  to  me.  I  heard  lengthy  expositions 
of  errors  in  elevation  and  the  like,  and  some- 
body said  a  great  deal  in  explanation  of  load- 
ing, relaying,  fire  and  what  not  before  I  left. 

I  also  learned  that  the  fire  was  being  di- 
rected from  the  ground  from  what  the  battery 
commander  called  the  O.  P.,  or  observation 
post.  He  sent  me  up  to  that  post  with  one  of 
the  spotters.  We  reached  it  on  our  hands  and 
knees  and  found  that  its  site  was  an  old  tree 
stump  to  which  a  telephone  line  had  been  laid. 
From  that  spot  the  observation  man  directed 
the  fire  by  means  of  a  telephone.  His  work 
consisted  of  telephoning  to  the  battery  com- 
mander whether  the  fire  was  short  or  high,  or 
fell  to  the  side  of  the  object  aimed  at. 

The  language  of  the  observation  post  was 
Chinese  to  me  at  first.  I  could  not  make  out 
what  they  meant  by  **No.  1  gun,  two  minutes, 
five  degrees  right.'* 

After  that  No.  2  gun  would  take  a  whirl  at 
it  as  the  next  correction  indicated.  That  cor- 
108 


MY  FIEST  FLIGHT 

rection  might  be:  **No.  2  gnn,  one  minute, 
eight  degrees  far." 

It  was  all  Dutch  to  me,  but  it  was  interest- 
ing to  watch  it.  I  afterwards  found  out  that 
the  fire  spotter  sometimes  worked  in  con- 
nection with  airplanes  when  shrapnel  was  be- 
ing used,  the  duties  of  the  ground  observer  in 
that  case  being  to  determine  the  height  at 
which  the  shrapnel  was  exploding.  The  aer- 
ial observer  also  had  to  report  on  the  effect 
of  the  fire.  Nobody  had  explained  to  me  so 
far  why  I  had  been  attached  to  the  battery  and 
nobody  ever  did,  but  I  surmised  they  wanted 
me  to  get  up  some  acquaintance  with  artillery 
practice.  Some  day  no  doubt,  if  I  live  long 
enough,  I  would  have  to  spot  shrapnel  while 
on  the  wing,  and  my  apprenticeship  with  ar- 
tillery would  then  have  some  value. 

To  observe  artillery  fire  from  above  was 
the  very  thing  I  wanted  to  do,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  the  corrections  I  sent  down 
should  be  as  accurate  as  possible.  With  that 
in  mind  I  absorbed  as  much  of  artillery  tech- 
nique as  I  could.  I  was  anxious  to  get  back 
to  the  Flying  Squadron  in  the  hope  that  I 
would  get  another  flight  right  away.  On  ar- 
109 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

riving  at  headquarters  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  being  told  by  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
squadron  that  I  was  doing  fine;  but  to  this 
remark  he  added  that  I  was  to  keep  it  up  and 
then  sometime  or  other  I  might  be  a  real  bird- 
man. 

The  next  week  I  spent  in  learning  a  great 
deal  about  the  Lewis  gun.  I  was  taken  to  a 
range  and  taught  how  to  use  it,  how  to  rem- 
edy its  jams,  change  broken  cartridge  guide 
springs,  and  apply  the  immediate  action  on 
an  empty  drum. 

The  gun  I  was  handling  had  all  the  defects 
which  I  might  have  to  overcome  in  the  air, 
and  I  will  say  that  my  course  on  the  range 
was  very  thorough.  Later,  I  learned  how  to 
fix  the  ** double  feed  jam,''  change  extrac- 
tors, regulate  the  action  of  the  bolt  and  do  the 
many  other  things  one  has  to  know  in  order 
to  keep  a  machine  gun  running. 

I  put  in  a  very  busy  week,  especially  since 
in  addition  to  my  study  of  the  Lewis  gun  I 
had  to  continue  artillery  observation  prac- 
tice. I  discovered  that  spotting  artillery  fire 
while  moving  about  on  an  airplane  was  not 
so  simple  as  I  had  imagined.  The  things  I 
110 


MY  FIRST  FLIGHT 

was  supposed  to  learn  were  piling  np  rapidly, 
moreover.  By  the  end  of  the  week  I  had  also 
been  introdnced  to  wireless  telegraphy.  I 
worked  fourteen  honrs  each  day. 


CHAPTER  IX 


MY  FIRST  HTTN 


The  next  trip  I  made  aloft  was  made  as 
gxmner  in  a  fighting  airplane.  We  were  on 
patrol  for  three  hours,  and  I  had  a  bnsy  time 
of  it  trjdng  to  keep  my  mind  on  the  gun  and 
flying  at  the  same  time.  On  my  next  trip  I 
spent  a  hundred  rounds  from  a  Lewis  gun 
at  a  target  and  the  same  day  I  was  sent  as 
gunner'  on  another  patrol. 

We  bad  been  up  for  an  hour,  when  the  pilot 
spotted  a  Hun  battery  and  gave  its  direction 
to  some  of  our  guns.  We  were  then  about 
six  miles  behind  the  German  line.  All  went 
well  for  a  time  until  I  saw  another  machine 
at  about  our  own  level,  to  which  I  called 
my  pilot's  attention.  Though  the  other  craft 
was  at  least  a  mile  away  the  pilot  recognized 
it  immediately  as  a  Hun.  He  began  to  tap  out 
something  on  the  wireless  key  which,  as  I 
afterwards  learned,  was  a  message  to  the 
112 


MY  FIRST  HUN 

battery  with  which  we  were  working  to  cease 
firing.  The  hostile  machine  was  also  an  ob- 
server and  the  flash  from  onr  guns  would 
have  shown  its  pilot  where  our  battery  was 
located. 

The  thought  that  there  was  a  Hun  in  the 
air  and  that  we  might  have  to  meet  him  gave 
me  a  nervous  thrill  since  I  somewhat  doubted 
my  ability  to  handle  a  machine  gun.  The  man 
in  the  other  machine  might  be  much  more 
proficient  than  I;  and,  while  I  had  broken 
bottles  on  the  range,  fired  on  the  outline  of  a 
Hun  plane  on  the  ground  for  practice,  and 
done  other  trial  stunts,  I  had  never  before 
tried  issues  with  a  real  live  Hun. 

But  I  found  a  great  deal  of  comfort  in  the 
fact  that  my  pilot  was  a  good  man  (he  had 
been  decorated  for  bravery)  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  was  not  going  to  disappoint 
him.  He  had  shown  that  he  had  faith  in  me, 
and  for  that  reason  I  had  myself  well  in 
hand  when  the  German  machine  came  nearer 
to  us. 

But  it  was  not  our  business  to  fight  down 
the  hostile  machine.  We  were  observers.  It 
was  rather  risky,  moreover,  to  take  up  a  fight 
113 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

with  a  Hun  above  his  own  territory,  where  a 
forced  landing  wonld  have  resulted  in  onr 
being  made  prisoners  of  war.  Consequently 
we  started  for  home,  but  Fritz  saw  fit  to  fol- 
low us. 

We  were  over  No  Man^s  Land  when  finally 
we  turned  on  him,  and  I  got  ready  to  work 
the  machine  gun.  I  knelt  down  in  the  seat 
and  when  we  were  close  enough  the  pilot 
turned  around  and  gave  me  the  signal  to  fire. 
But  the  Hun  was  miles  past,  and  I  wondered 
if  the  pilot  thought  that  I  was  the  champion 
trap  shot  x)f  the  world.  There  were  no  syn- 
chronized machine  guns  in  those  days,  and 
to  shoot  through  the  propeller  meant  of  course 
that  there  would  be  a  sudden  landing  since 
the  bullets  would  splinter  its  blades  to  pieces. 
We  came  alongside  of  each  other  and  I 
had  put  a  drum  of  cartridges  in  the  gun 
and  was  in  the  act  of  aiming  at  the  Hun  ma- 
chine when  something  hit  a  strut  alongside 
of  my  head.  A  glance  in  the  direction  of  the 
strut  showed  me  that  a  bullet  had  gone 
through.  Quick  as  a  wink  I  pulled  the  trigger 
and  the  little  gun  began  to  jump  and  bounce 
about  on  its  mounting. 
114 


MY  FIRST  HUN 

What  the  effect  of  my  fire  would  be  I  was 
anxions  to  know.  The  racket  made  by  the 
machine  gun  was  deafening,  and  since  its 
muzzle  was  directly  above  my  pilot  the  man 
had  to  crouch  down  into  the  cockpit.  But  he, 
too,  was  interested  in  seeing  what  I  was 
doing  and  after  a  few  moments  he  sat  up 
again. 

I  was  shaking  with  excitement  by  now.  The 
machine  gun  was  spitting  bullets  at  a  fast 
rate,  but  on  the  Hun  plane  everything  re- 
mained in  order.  The  two  machines  were 
keeping  to  a  parallel  course  and  I  was  begin- 
ning to  fear  that  my  aim  was  too  poor  to  bring 
down  our  opponents,  who  were  meanwhile 
keeping  up  their  fire. 

Of  a  sudden  the  enemy  machine  lurched 
forward.  Then  something  detached  itself 
from  it.    It  was  the  form  of  a  falling  man. 

My  excitement  reached  its  height.  My  aim 
had  been  good  after  all.  As  I  saw  the  body 
speed  towards  the  ground,  turning  over  and 
over  again,  a  sensation  of  sickness  seized  me. 
So  intense  was  this  that  I  hoped  the  next 
enemy  would  get  me  in  order  that  I  might  not 
have  to  go  through  this  agony  again. 
115 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Meanwhile  the  pilot  had  seen  the  falling 
Hnn.  There  was  a  smile  on  his  face  as  he 
shonted: 

**Danm  goodi" 

The  Hnn  machine  had  cnrved  back  to  the 
rear  of  its  own  line  and  we  also  made  a  tnm 
during  which  we  ascertained  that  the  man 
had  fallen  inside  of  his  own  lines,  having 
hit  the  ground  behind  the  reserve  posi- 
tion. 

Something  had  gone  wrong  with  the  Hun 
machine,  however.  After  a  while  it  began  to 
volplane  rapidly;  finally,  it  hit  the  ground 
with  such  force  that  the  wings  left  the  body 
of  the  machine. 

While  I  was  taking  the  empty  ammunition 
drum  from  the  machine,  the  pilot  sent  some- 
thing over  the  wireless  and  before  long  our 
battery  was  at  work  again. 

When  our  period  of  patrol  was  over  we 
went  home  and  made  a  good  landing.  The 
other  men  crowded  around  us.  They  had 
seen  the  fight  and  were  eager  to  shake  hands 
with  us.  I  pretended  not  to  be  excited,  but  I 
wanted  to  get  up  and  shout  to  the  world  that 
I  had  brought  down  a  Hun  in  the  air,  and 
116 


MY  FIRST  HUN 

assisted  the  pilot  lookiiig  over  the  machine  to 
find  what  damage  the  Hun  machine  gunner 
had  done  to  it.  We  found  that  he  had  eight 
hits  to  his  credit.  A  ninth  bullet  had  gone 
through  the  pilot's  leather  coat  at  the 
shoulder. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  squadron 
also  congratulated  both  of  us. 

I  confess  that  I  was  rather  pleased  with 
myself,  and  at  the  mess  that  night  my  brother 
sergeants  contributed  not  a  little  to  that  feel- 
ing. One  of  them,  however,  a  Cockney,  pro- 
ceeded promptly  to  take  some  of  the  conceit 
out  of  me. 

**Ay,  mytes,  look  at  that  bloke!  'e  don't 
'alf  fauncy  'isself,  cause  'e  pitched  down  a 
bloomin'  'un,'*  he  remarked,  laughingly. 

Since  he  had  not  done  even  that  much,  I 
could  not  see  why  he  should  put  in  his  jaw, 
and  so  I  came  back  at  him  with,  *  *  Well,  I  don 't 
see  any  medals  on  you  for  anything  you  ever 
did."  He  lost  his  temper,  but  the  rest  of  the 
boys  soon  brought  him  to  his  senses. 

It  was  not  long  before  some  of  the  other 
sergeants  made  me  feel  that  they  did  not  like 
me  any  too  well.  Several  of  them  remarked 
117 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

that  I  was  a  Yankee,  and  the  way  of  saying 
it  was  uncomplimentary.  Finally  the  Ser- 
geant-Major  put  a  stop  to  the  argument,  bnt 
before  he  did  this  I  learned  that  it  did  not 
pay  to  argue  with  sergeant-majors  when 
you  are  a  junior. 

The  following  week,  while  on  reconnaissance 
about  thirty  miles  behind  the  German  lines, 
our  machine  and  another  were  flying  along 
merrily  when  we  were  tackled  by  six  Ger- 
mans. The  odds  were  against  us,  so  we 
headed  for  our  own  lines  at  an  elevation  of 
about  six  thousand  feet. 

The  Huns,  however,  had  made  up  their 
minds  that  we  should  not  get  away  if  they 
could  prevent  it,  and  they  attacked  us.  Some 
of  them  were  trying  to  get  ahead  of  us,  while 
others  sought  to  get  directly  underneath  us, 
so  that  they  could  reach  us  the  better  with 
their  machine  guns.  One  of  the  machines 
got  over  us.  In  fact,  they  overlooked  no 
point  of  vantage  to  put  an  end  to  our  career. 
Finally,  one  of  the  Huns,  who  seemed  more 
daring  than  the  others,  made  straight  for  the 
other  machine.  I  began  to  fire.  After  a 
while  the  tracers  hit  his  engine  and  then  he 
118 


MY  FIRST  HUN 

glided  to  earth.  I  cursed  my  luck  for  having 
only  disabled  him. 

The  other  machines  were  still  flying  around 
us,  though  by  this  time  in  larger  circles.  Al- 
though we  were  now  near  our  own  lines,  they 
kept  pegging  away  at  us  and  some  of  their 
bullets  kept  spinning  past  us  dangerously 
close. 

Just  as  we  got  over  our  lines,  the  Huns 
made  another  big  try  to  get  us.  Our  ma- 
chines separated  in  order  to  not  give  the 
Germans  a  chance  to  attack  us  together.  Two 
of  them  went  for  my  machine  while  the  other 
three  attacked  the  other.  I  fought  my  op- 
ponents at  long  range,  hoping  to  hold  them 
off  in  that  manner.  But  they  were  energetic 
and  daring  enough.  They  closed  in  on  us 
and  the  rattle  of  their  machine  guns  could 
be  heard  above  the  roar  of  my  engine,  so 
close  were  they. 

The  Huns  decided  to  try  other  tactics.  One 
of  them  started  to  climb  while  the  other  kept 
on  a  level  with  us.  Not  one  of  them  remained 
in  any  position  very  long.  Of  a  sudden  the 
Hun  machine  which  had  managed  to  get  well 
above  us  began  to  dive,  and  as  he  did  so  its 
119 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

gunner  landed  a  bullet  in  the  shoulder  of  my 
pilot,  Captain  Robertson. 

I  feared  that  the  Captain  had  been  dis- 
abled, and  was  ready  to  jump  into  his  place. 
If  he  lost  consciousness  the  machine  would 
be  out  of  control,  and  in  that  case  it  would 
have  been  the  last  trip  for  both  of  us. 

Captain  Robertson  remained  conscious.  He 
seemed  unable,  however,  to  keep  control  of 
the  machine.  We  began  to  descend  rapidly 
towards  Hun  land  and  I  had  visions  already 
of  being  captured  and  made  a  prisoner  of  war. 

To  find  out  in  what  state  the  pilot  was  I 
shouted  at  him.  Instead  of  saying  a  word, 
however,  he  pointed  up  at  one  of  the  Huns 
who  had  just  passed  us.  That  signal,  as  I 
presently  came  to  understand,  was  intended 
to  show  me  that  we  were  to  dive  to  the 
ground. 

A  grand  nose  dive  came.  It  was  made  at 
so  steep  an  angle  that  the  oil  rushed  out  of 
the  breather  pipes  and  covered  my  face.  It 
also  blinded  my  goggles  so  that  I  was  obliged 
to  waste  time  in  wiping  them  off  with  my 
handkerchief. 

But  that  was  soon  done.  There  was  a  whole 
120 


MY  FIEST  HUN 

drum  of  cartridges,  on  the  machine,  and  as 
the  Hun  came  to  my  level  again  I  let  fly  at 
him.  I  saw  him  raise  himself,  then  he  dropped 
back  in  his  seat — dead. 

With  that  machine  out  of  the  way  the  pilot 
pnlled  ours  up  once  more,  and  soon  we  were 
headed  for  home. 

Captain  Eobertson  was  getting  weaker  all 
the  time,  however,  and  I  began  to  doubt 
whether  we  would  get  over  the  line.  In  the 
course  of  our  fight  with  the  Hun  machines, 
we  had  gone  back  over  the  German  lines,  as 
I  now  discovered,  and  our  speed  had  fallen 
off  alarmingly. 

I  am  not  much  of  a  praying  man,  but  right 
there  I  said  the  little  prayer  my  old  mother 
had  taught  me.  Meanwhile,  I  kept  my  eyes 
open  for  the  remaining  Hun,  who  was  still 
near  us.  I  hoped  that  he  would  decide  to 
stay  away  for  I  had  only  one  drum  of  ammu- 
nition left — 47  rounds.  He  was  obliging 
enough  to  do  this. 

But  now  we  were  again  within  range  of  the 
German  anti-aircraft  batteries,  which  began 
to  fire  at  us.    They  hammered  away  indus- 
triously, but  luck  was  with  us. 
121 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

We  crossed  the  lines  without  further  in- 
jury and  landed  at  a  French  aerodrome. 
Though  disabled,  my  pilot  made  a  very  fine 
landing.  He  was  bandaged  up  by  the  French 
and  sent  by  motor  car  to  the  hospital.  I 
telephoned  to  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
squadron  to  tell  him  what  had  happened  and 
he  sent  another  pilot  down  to  get  the  machine. 
On  our  arrival  at  the  Squadron  aerodrome  I 
was  welcomed  by  the  commanding  officer  and 
learned  that  the  other  machine  which  had 
accompanied  us  had  been  helped  out  of  a 
tight  fix  by  two  French  machines. 

Between  the  three  of  them  they  had  brought 
down  two  of  the  Huns,  the  third  having  made 
a  rapid  retreat  as  a  captive  balloon  of  ours 
had  observed. 

From  the  same  captive  balloon  my  fight  had 
also  been  seen,  and  its  observer  reported  that 
the  machine  whose  pilot  I  had  shot  had  come 
down  with  a  crash  behind  the  Hun  lines. 

My  month  of  probation  was  not  yet  over 
and  such  time  as  I  did  not  spend  in  the  air 
had  to  be  devoted  to  study.  Finally  I  was 
sent  to  H.  where  at  the  headquarters  of  the 
Royal  Flying  Corps  I  was  told  that  I  was  to 
122 


MY  FIRST  HUN 

proceed  to  England  to  get  my  officer's  kit, 
this  being  the  first  intimation  that  I  had  been 
given  a  commission.  Needless  to  say,  I  was 
as  proud  as  a  peacock,  and  the  prospects  of 
seeing  England  again  increased  my  hap- 
piness. There  was  no  holding  me,  and  I  blew 
myself  to  a  wine  dinner  in  a  little  French 
hotel.  I  was  a  stranger  and  for  that  reason 
had  to  celebrate  all  alone.  The  celebration 
ceased  on  the  arrival  of  my  train. 


CHAPTER  X 


MY  COMMISSION 


I  AKRivED  in  London  too  late  in  the  evening 
to  report  at  headquarters,  and  decided  to 
have  a  look  at  Piccadilly  Circus,  which  I  had 
no  trouble  in  finding  this  time.  I  also  met  two 
boys  from  home,  who  were  on  leave,  and  the 
three  of  us  went  all  over  town,  finishing  up 
at  Murray's  Club,  which  was  then  open  all 
night. 

After  a  short  period  of  enjoyment,  I  settled 
down  to  business,  getting  ready,  among  other 
things,  my  officer 's  equipment.  The  uniform 
I  now  put  on  impressed  me  very  much  more 
than  did  the  one  I  had  donned  in  Canada.  It 
was  a  novelty  to  have  the  Tommies  and  non- 
commissioned officers  salute  me.  But  that 
sensation  soon  wore  off ;  there  were  so  many 
of  them  that  my  right  arm  was  nearly  para- 
lyzed by  night  time. 

There  is  nobody  who  can  take  the  conceit 
124 


ISiiJEHr^^*  * 

H 

mm 

■9 

■fsxl 

W^rj 

^^M 

1 

i 

AT   HOME 


AWAITING    ORDERS 


GOOD   PALS 


A   SLIGHT   MISHAP 


MY  COMMISSION 

ont  of  a  man  as  well  as  one's  friends.  I  had 
my  picture  taken  in  my  uniform  and  sent 
photographs  to  friends  at  home  who  promptly 
discovered  that  the  old  uniform  had  fitted  me 
much  better.  A  week  later  I  was  back  on 
my  way  to  France,  meeting  at  the  port  of  em- 
barkation a  pal  from  my  end  of  the  world, 
James  Newton.  He  was  very  much  surprised 
to  see  that  I  was  an  officer  now,  but  said  that 
he  would  not  salute  me  if  I  were  a  general. 

I  had  orders  to  report  to  the  embarkation 
officer  in  France,  and  he  sent  me  to  one  of 
the  aircraft  parks  further  inland.  The  com- 
manding officer  of  the  squadron  to  which  I 
had  been  detailed  gave  me  what  seemed  to  be 
a  chilly  reception. 

**I  don't  know  anything  about  you  at  all, 
old  chap,"  he  said,  as  -he  sized  me  up.  I  was 
dead  tired  and  hungry  and  did  not  care 
whether  he  knew*  anything  about  me  or  not. 

**Well,  give  me  something  to  eat,''  I  said, 
*  *  and  a  bed  for  the  night.  To-morrow  we  can 
call  up  headquarters  and  find  out  where  I  am 
to  go." 

I  managed  to  get  some  food  all  right,  but 
no  place  to  sleep.  The  commanding  officer  of 
125 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

the  squadron  spent  a  good  part  of  that  eve- 
ning getting  in  touch  with  headquarters,  and 
when  at  eleven  o  'clock  he  had  finally  managed 
to  do  that  I  was  packed  into  a  motor  car  and 
sent  to  the  headquarters  in  question.  It  was 
a  three  hours'  drive  to  get  to  my  destination, 
and  I  was  almost  frozen  when  I  got  there. 

At  headquarters  I  met  a  good  old  staff 
colonel,  who  did  his  best  to  make  me  com- 
fortable, so  that  soon  I  was  sitting  beside  a 
fire  and  had  a  glass  of  Scotch  beside  me.  A 
little  later  they  had  found  a  nice  room  for 
me  and  I  was  asleep  in  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell  it. 

During  the  day  I  was  called  into  the  office 
of  the  Colonel  and  was  then  given  my  route 
orders  and  instructed  to  report  to  a  squadron 
in  the  South.  I  had  been  attached  to  a  squad- 
ron in  the  part  of  France  to  which  I  was 
going  and  I  wondered  whether  my  orders 
would  send  me  there  again. 

I  s-hould  have  liked  to  get  back  to  that 
squadron,  but  it  was  not  to  be. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  -squadron 
to  which  I  was  attached  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  his  was  the  crack  organization  of 
126 


MY  COMMISSION 

the  corps,  but  they  all  do  that.  After  that  he 
told  me  minntely  what  he  expected  me  to  do, 
and,  believe  me,  it  was  a  whole  lot. 

But  he  seemed  quite  nice  about  it,  and  so 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  my  best  to  satisfy 

hlTTI- 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  from  the 
aerodrome  was  a  little  wood  into  which  the 
Boches  were  in  the  habit  of  putting  shells  all 
through  the  day  and  night.  In  the  woods 
was  an  Armstrong  hut  which  was  assigned 
to  me  as  my  quarters,  and  my  real  flying  life 
had  begun.  Next  morning  I  was  given  a  set 
of  maps  of  the  country  we  had  to  work  in 
and,  from  the  number  issued  to  me,  I  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  this  squadron  covered 
most  of  France.  I  was  also  a-ssigned  to  a 
pilot  by  the  name  of  Smith. 

It  was  in  this  squadron  that  I  received  my 
first  nickname;  it  happened  in  this  manner. 
The  squadron,  being  English,  its  men  followed 
the  English  custom  of  having  breakfast  at 
«even  in  the  morning,  lunch  at  one  in  the 
afternoon,  tea  at  four,  and  dinner  at  eight 
or  nine  in  the  evening.  The  breakfast  was 
very  good,  but  lunch  was  a  cold  meal  with 
9  127 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

canned  tongne  or  a  cold  ham  and  salad.  In 
the  parts  of  the  world  that  I  come  from  we 
have  the  habit  of  calling  the  midday  meal 
dinner,  and  it  was  the  big  meal  of  the  day. 
For  that  reason  I  fonnd  it  hard  to  get  used 
to  this  cold  meal.  I  felt  the  need  t)f  some- 
thing warm  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  so  I 
went  to  A.  and  there  bought  myself  abont 
fifteen  cans  of  pork  and  beans.  The  cook 
used  to  warm  these  np  for  me  for  lunch, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  I  had  the  squadron 
eating  pork  and  beans.  That  led  to  my  being 
known  to  the  commanding  officer  as  **  Bean- 
face.''    The  name  stuck. 

Before  long  I  had  another  nickname — 
Casey.  That  name  came  to  me  from  a  rag 
time  record  on  our  phonograph  popularly 
known  as  ** Casey  Jones,"  the  same  Casey 
Jones  who  went  down  on  the  Robert  E,  Lee. 
I  learned  the  thing  by  heart  and  used  to  sing 
it  at  the  weekly  concerts  we  gave  our  men. 
The  concert  always  was  a  big  affair  and  we 
used  to  get  a  battalion  band  to  play  for  us. 
But  my  Casey  Jones  song  continued  to  be  a 
feature  of  the  concerts,  hence  the  nick- 
name. 

128 


MY  COMMISSION 

As  I  said,  my  pilot's  name  was  Smith.  I 
called  him  *'Smithie."  His  other  name  I 
never  learned. 

Pilot  Smithie  was  a  good  sort  and  aside 
from  having  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  Hnn 
**  Archies, '*  he  was  a  brave  boy,  as  I  soon 
f  onnd  ont. 

We  were  assigned  to  a  patrol  and  for  a 
week  nothing  of  mnch  importance  happened. 
On  a  Snnday  -afternoon,  while  aloft,  I  noticed 
that  the  aircraft  sign  intended  to  warn  ns  of 
danger  had  ont  the  figure  *'8."  Looking  in 
the  direction  indicated  by  the  arrow  on  the 
ground  I  saw  eight  German  machines  on  re- 
connaissance behind  our  lines.  Our  ^  *  Archie ' ' 
guns  were  hammering  at  them  and  before 
long  one  of  the  Hun  machines  detached  itself 
from  the  flock  and  headed  for  home. 

The  machine  I  was  in  was  abont  a  thousand 
feet  above  'him  and  as  the  Hun  came  towards 
ns  my  pilot  began  to  play  for  position  so  that 
I  might  get  a  good  shot  at  him.  He  managed 
to  get  above  the  Hun  machine,  and  as  it  came 
past  ns  its  gunner  started  to  work  his  ma- 
chine gnn.  I  returned  his  fire,  and  for  the 
first  two  drums  of  cartridges  no  result  was 
129 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

obtained.  But  with  the  first  half  of  the  third 
drum  I  killed  the  gunner. 

We  then  closed  in  on  the  man  who  was  fly- 
ing the  machine.  He  looked  at  me  as  I  took 
aim  and  I  hated  to  shoot  him.  But  as  I 
thought  of  the  chances  I  would  have  if  I  were 
in  his  boots  I  just  naturally  pulled  the  trigger 
and  hit  him  with  a  string  of  about  thirty 
cartridges. 

His  machine  turned  towards  our  lines  of 
a  sudden  and  then  headed  down  to  earth. 
Then  it  began  to  spin,  there  was  a  little  puff 
of  dust  as  he  hit,  and  it  was  all  over. 

My  pilot  was  overjoyed  and  I  was  quite 
proud  myself,  but  I  thought  of  what  it  meant 
to  be  shot  at  nine  thousand  feet  above  the 
ground  and  of  the  cra-sh  when  the  machine 
landed.    What  a  finish! 

When  we  were  through  with  patrol  work, 
we  returned  to  headquarters,  and  that  night 
the  dead  Hun  looked  at  me  as  he  had  done 
in  the  afternoon;  as  a  result  I  slept  very 
Kttle. 

In  the  long  run  flying  gets  as  monotonous 
as  riding  a  motor  car,  and  one  soon  gets  to 
look  upon  it  as  hard  work.  It  is  hard  work. 
130 


MY  COMMISSION 

I  have  found  my  nerves  strung  to  such  a 
pitch  that  I  could  do  nothing  for  a  minute 
or  so,  and  at  such  times  I  would  chew  my  lead 
pencils. 

My  student  period  was  not  yet  over.  There 
was  still  much  to  learn.  It  was  not  alone  the 
question  of  how  to  handle  a  machine  gun 
or  even  the  airplane  itself ;  the  service  which 
the  aviator  is  expected  to  render  is  compli- 
cated and  intensive  in  its  many  details.  For 
instance,  so  far  I  had  learned  little  of  what 
is  known  as  Contact  Control,  the  purpose 
of  which  is  to  keep  in  touch  with  advancing 
infantry,  tabulate  its  progress,  and  then  re- 
I)ort  to  headquarters.  Each  battalion  or 
other  unit  advancing  has  a  call  of  its  own 
when  it  wants  to  signal.  This  is  transmitted 
to  the  observer  aloft  by  means  of  a  ground- 
sheet  and  shutter,  the  message  being  con- 
veyed by  means  of  dots  and  dashes.  The  air- 
plane observer  is  expected  to  take  this 
message  and  relay  it  by  wireless  to  head- 
quarters. When  convenient  he  will  fly  over 
headquarters  every  fifteen  minutes  to  either 
drop  message  bags  or  report  in  person. 

To  study  that  system  I  was  sent  with  my 
131 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

pilot  to  a  French  aerodrome.  We  began 
to  map  ont  the  country  behind  it,  and  then 
practiced  this  system  of  signalling  with 
troops  detailed  for  the  purpose. 

I  will  explain  here  briefly  what  the  organi- 
zation of  the  average  flying  squadron  is.  It 
generally  has  from  four  to  seven  machines 
to  a  flight  and  from  two  to  four  flights,  and 
each  flight  is  commanded  by  a  flight  com- 
mander, who  generally  has  the  rank  of  cap- 
tain. This  officer  is  also  charged  with  the 
duties  of  the  commanding  officer  in  an  admin- 
istrative sense.  He  is  empowered  to  punisH 
his  rank  and  file.  But  he  is  responsible  to 
the  officer  conunanding  the  squadron  for 
orders. 

The  commanding  officer  of  my  squadron 
was  an  Irish  Catholic,  and  he  was  to  us  a  sort 
of  Father  Confessor.  He  went  to  church 
every  Sunday  morning  in  a  little  village  near 
our  camp.  Usually  we  who  were  Catholics 
went  along.  The  commanding  officer  had  a 
real  prayer  book,  which  to  me  was  quite  a 
novelty.  I  had  not  been  to  church  for  so  long 
that  I  did  not  remember  much  about  it.  But 
it  soon  came  back. 

132 


MY  COMMISSION 

The  old  Father  was  -an  army  chaplain  and 
his  little  church  was  about  five  miles  behind 
the  lines.  The  people  who  attended  were 
poor  but  proud,  as  most  of  the  real  French 
people  seem  to  be.  They  felt  the  war  quite 
badly,  but  despite  that  they  had  masses  said 
for  their  dead  sons,  husbands,  and  brothers. 
They  all  showed  a  wonderful  spirit,  as  was 
evidenced  by  the  firm  voices  in  which  they 
said  their  prayers  for  those  who  were  fight- 
ing. 

We  invited  the  Father  to  come  over  to 
the  squadron  and  have  dinner  with  us,  and 
one  night  he  came.  Before  leaving  our  camp 
he  blessed  our  machines.  After  that  we  saw 
quite  a  lot  of  him,  though  he  was  very  busy 
with  the  troops  under  his  care,  whom  he  called 
his  flock,  and  with  the  peasants,  who  all  went 
to  him  when  they  were  in  trouble. 

There  was  a  large  Hun  aerodrome  at  Cam- 
brai,  about  fifty  miles  from  our  camp.  It  had 
been  decided  to  bomb  this.  Three  machines 
were  to  go.  Of  the  three  selected  mine  was 
one.  It  was  a  beautiful  evening  and  the  raid 
was  supposed  to  'be  made  that  night. 

We  put  on  our  duds  and  piled  into  the 
133 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

machine  end  soon  we  were  np  in  the  air. 
Though  it  was  dark,  there  was  no  danger  of 
losing  our  way  as  the  roads  show  plainly 
at  night  as  well  as  lakes  and  rivers,  which 
look  like  silver,  and  the  lines  were  being  lit 
np  by  star  shells.  From  above,  these  lights 
could  be  seen  from  a  long  way  off  and  when 
many  of  them  were  up  it  was  a  pretty  sight 
indeed.  The  star  shells  burst  very  much  as 
did  a  large  shell,  and  when  many  of  them 
go  up  at  one  time  they  furnish  a  splendid 
pyrotechnic  display. 

On  this  night  the  front  was  quite  busy.  The 
star  shells  lighted  up  great  stretches,  and 
the  wonder  of  it  was  heightened  by  the  flash 
of  guns  and  exploding  shells.  We  crossed  the 
Hun  lines  at  u  good  height  and  were  soon 
behind  them.  As  we  went  over  their 
** Archies"  we  found  that  -our  coming  was 
known.  Shrapnel  began  to  burst  below  us, 
but  our  machine  went  straight  over  and  be- 
fore long  we  were  near  our  mark.  The  pilot 
shut  off  the  power  and  glided  down  to  within 
500  feet  of  the  Hun  aerodrome ;  then  he  pulled 
the  plugs  that  liberated  the  bombs. 

As  the  bombs  exploded  everything  below 
134 


MY  COMMISSION 

ns  jumped  into  action.  Searchlights  began 
to  flit  about  and  tried  to  find  us.  More  shrap- 
nel reached  up  for  us. 

The  other  two  machines  after  'laying  their 
eggs"  had  started  upward  again,  but  my  pilot 
seemed  to  have  some  trouble  in  starting  his 
motor.  We  were  still  going  down,  as  I  could 
tell  by  the  searchlights,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  we  were  dangerously  near  the  ground 
when  the  engine  suddenly  began  to  work. 

We  flew  very  low  over  the  ground  for  some 
distance  before  we  had  speed  enough  to 
**zoom."  But  after  that  we  lost  no  time  re- 
crossing  the  Hun  lines,  which  we  did  at  an 
elevation  of  about  5,000  feet. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  aerodrome  the  pilot 
told  me  that  we  had  had  a  narrow  escape  and 
that  the  engine  had  started  again  just  in  the 
very  nick  of  time.  Otherwise  we  would  have 
been  obliged  to  land  in  the  terrain  of  the 
Huns  at  Cambrai. 

I  thanked  my  stars  that  I  had  not  known  it 
at  the  time,  for  I  am  sure  I  would  have  died 
then  and  there  of  heart  failure. 

About  a  week  later  I  was  flying  behind  the 
Hun  lines  with  a  pilot  named  Knight,  when, 
135 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

on  turning  around  to  go  back  to  our  line,  the 
engine  slowed  down. 

Knight  did  not  succeed  in  starting  np  again, 
though  he  tried  hard,  "We  were  going  down, 
down,  down — ^towards  the  Hnn  lines.  Soon 
the  machine  guns  started  to  work  on  us  from 
the  ground.  We  were  in  a  terrible  situation. 
I  had  shouted  several  times  at  the  pilot,  but 
getting  no  answer  from  him  finally  looked 
around. 

The  pilot  was  gone! 

But  he  had  not  fallen  out  as  I  feared.  My 
frantic  yells  finally  reached  him,  and  then  I 
discovered  that  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
cockpit  trying  to  fix  the  throttle  of  the  engine, 
which  had  broken. 

It  was  easier  to  reach  the  throttle  from  my 
position,  and  more  than  once  I  had  thought 
out  just  that  emergency.  Now  I  was  to  put 
my  theory  into  action.  Taking  off  my  heavy 
flying  coat,  and  supporting  myself  on  my 
head  and  shoulders  on  the  floor  of  the  ma- 
chine, I  reached  around  the  foot-board  and 
opened  the  throttle.  That  started  the  motor 
again  and  once  more  we  avoided  being  made 
prisoner  by  the  Huns. 
136 


MY  COMMISSION 

So  far  so  good,  but  in  reaching  down  tor 
get  at  the  throttle  I  had  wedged  myself  be- 
tween some  stays  and  trusses  from  which  I 
found  it  impossible  to  extricate  myself. 

The  remainder  of  the  trip  to  our  aerodrome 
I  made  upon  my  head. 

By  the  time  we  reached  camp  the  pains  in 
my  neck  were  almost  unbearable  and  for  the 
next  week  I  walked  around  with  a  stiff  neck. 

The  work  we  were  doing  was  very  interest- 
ing and  I  got  my  full  share  of  it.  There  were 
also  days  on  which  we  had  little  to  do  and 
then  we  would  go  to  a  little  country  house 
nearby  to  visit  two  of  the  nicest  girls  I  Ve  ever 
known.  When  there  was  little  to  do  up  in 
the  air  we  would  go  to  a  nearby  battery  and 
help  the  crew  a  little  and  learn  as  much  as 
we  could. 


CHAPTER  XI 

BATTERING  THE  HUN 

I  FOUND  artillery  work  most  attractive,  both 
on  the  ground  and  when  up  in  the  air.  I 
used  to  control  fire  by  sending  the  necessary 
corrections  to  the  batteries  by  wireless. 

Aerial  control  of  artillery  fire  works  some- 
thing like  this :  Let  ns  say  that  I  am  np  on 
patrol  and  see  a  Hun  gun  shooting.  To  stop 
him  I  call  artillery  headquarters  by  wireless 
and  if  the  enemy  gun  happens  to  be  a  regis- 
tered target,  in  other  words  a  gun  whose  site 
is  located,  headquarters  will  telephone  up  to 
the  battery  which  has  the  registration — ^mean- 
ing the  necessary  data  on  elevation  and 
horizontals. 

In  a  very  short  time  after  that  Mr.  Hun 
quits  his  funny  work. 

If  it  should  happen  that  the  Hun  is  making 
himself  a  general  nuisance  and  the  battery 
has  not  been  located,  I  call  up  general  head- 
138 


BATTERING  THE  HUN 

quarters  and  let  them  know  that  I  want  to 
'* strafe '*  that  Hun.  Headquarters  then  lets 
me  pick  a  battery  of  guns  with  which  to  work 
and  I  get  in  touch  with  that  battery. 

I  can  reach  them  with  wireless  but  they 
cannot  communicfate  with  me  in  that  manner, 
so  that  I  depend  upon  their  signals,  which  are 
strips  of  cloth  on  the  ground,  placed  in  cer- 
tain formations.  There  would  be  no  difficulty 
in  receiving  wireless  on  an  aeroplane  were  it 
not  for  the  noise  of  the  motor  and  the  vibra- 
tions of  the  machine,  both  of  which  make  all 
known  methods  of  receiving  wireless  mes- 
sages absolutely  impossible.  But  the  signals 
on  the  ground  answered  the  same  purpose 
though  they  were  not  by  any  means  so  con- 
venient. 

I  call  the  battery  and  let  them  know  who 
I  am,  and  ask  them  if  they  will  *Uake  on  the 
shoot." 

As  soon  as  the  battery  has  signalled  to 
me  that  they  will,  1  indicate  by  map  co-ordi- 
nates, as  far  as  is  possible,  the  target's 
position.  When  the  battery  is  ready  to  fire, 
another  signal  is  put  out,  letting  me  know  that 
they  are  ready  to  fire,  so  that  I  may  be  able 
139 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

to  watch  the  effect  of  the  shot  after  it  has  left 
the  gun. 

The  first  shots  as  a  rule  fall  wide  of  the 
mark,  and  I  have  only  heard  of  one  instance 
in  which  an  aerial  observer  was  able  to  plant 
a  shell  right  in  the  middle  of  a  Hun  battery 
the  first  time.  And  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
that  that  was  accident  entirely. 

But  let  us  say  that  the  first  shot  falls  three 
hundred  yards  short  of  the  target.  In  that 
case  the  battery  is  told  by  wireless  that  it 
must  rectify  its  elevation  accordingly.  But 
it  is  not  so  simple  while  up  in  the  air  to  de- 
termine just  how  far  a  shell  has  fallen  wide  of 
the  mark.  It  is  possible  only  by  drawing 
imaginary  circles  around  the  Hun  battery, 
each  of  these  circles  representing  one  hundred 
yards.  If  an  error  has  been  made  in  this 
calculation  the  next  shot  will  show  it. 

When  finally  the  shells  fall  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  or  so  of  the  battery  it  becomes 
necessary  to  draw  smaller  circles,  50  yards, 
25  yards  and  10.  These  circles  are  named 
by  letters  of  the  alphabet.  Let  us  say  that 
the  distances,  200,  100,  50,  25  and  10  yards 
are  known  to  the  gunners  in  the  battery  as 
140 


BATTERING  THE  HUN 

L,  M,  N,  0,  P.  They  are  also  bisected  by 
figures  from  1  to  12,  12  being  due  north  and 
6  due  south,  while  3  and  9  are  rerspectively 
east  and  west. 

If  a  shot  falls  in  the  50-yard  circle  and 
northeast  of  the  battery,  I  would  in  that  case 
send  down  to  the  battery's  fire  control  the 
message  N-2  or  N-1.  The  battery  commander 
then  ranges  his  gun  for  this  last  correction, 
and  the  shooting  goes  on  until  something  else 
happens. 

For  instance,  while  I  was  controlling  fire  in 
this  manner,  all  of  a  sudden  my  battery  might 
cease  firing.  Not  another  shot  would  fall,  and 
no  more  flashes  would  come  from  the  gun 
pits.  Looking  around  I  would  then  be  pretty 
certain  to  see  a  Heinie,  as  we  call  the 
German  airmen,  floating  somewhere  near 
me. 

Of  course  that  Heinie  had  come  over  to 
spot  the  battery  which  was  molesting  his  own. 
The  commander  of  my  battery  had  seen  him 
before  I  could  and  for  that  reason  had 
ordered  *' cease  fire,"  so  that  the  location  of 
the  guns  would  not  be  given  away.  You  can 
bet  that  if  that  Hun  had  spotted  our  guns 
141 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

and  got  the  position  down,  that  very  night 
they  would  have  been  shelled. 

One  day  a  Hnn  plane  came  over  the  aero- 
drome after  we  had  gone  np  and' found  it  too 
misty  to  operate.  We  had  hardly  reached  the 
ground  again  when  out  of  that  pea  soup 
overhead  came  down  in  our  own  code  the  mes- 
sage: 

**Too  misty!  Go  home!"  Only  it  was  a 
Hun  birdman  who  had  given  us  that  kind 
message.  Yes,  Mr.  Hun  is  a  very  clever  person 
on  improvisations.  Knowing  that  we  relied 
on  the  smallest  wireless  sets  we  could  get,  he 
would  erect  a  powerful  wireless  station  some- 
where behind  his  lines  and  then  with  the 
waves  of  that  line  he  would  obliterate  the 
weak  electrical  impulses  with  which  we 
worked.  As  a  rule  they  would  wait  until 
about  three  or  four  machines  were  up  and 
then  they  would  jam  them  completely  out  of 
hearing.  In  this  case  those  on  the  ground 
who  were  listening  for  our  signals  would  hear 
nothing  but  the  loud  call  of  the  powerful 
Hun  station. 

But  Mr.  Hun  did  even  more  than  that.    He 
knew  our  code  of  signals,  and  would  wait 
142 


BATTERING  THE  HUN 

Tintil  a  machine  spotted  a  gun  somewhere 
near  a  target,  but  not  close  enough  for  our 
observers  to  advise  the  use  of  the  entire  bat- 
tery. Then  he  would  come  in  with  his  call 
and  order  a  salvo.  The  battery  commander, 
not  knowing  that  the  signal  was  not  from 
his  own  observer,  would  fire  and,  maybe, 
waste  from  ninety  to  one  hundred  rounds 
of  good  ammunition  in  an  open  field. 

Meanwhile,  the  infuriated  pilot  or  his  ob- 
server would  have  to  race  back  to  the  aero- 
drome and  telephone  to  the  battery  to  stop 
it. 

Later,  the  target  might  be  taken  on  again 
by  means  of  a  new  code  or  through  some 
other  method  of  signalling,  such  as  electric 
lamps.    And  thus  the  silent  kill  would  go  on. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  discovered  that 
the  early  morning  and  just  before  dusk  were 
the  best  time  for  patrol  work.  I  generally 
got  more  information  then  than  at  any  other 
time  of  the  day,  for  this  time  is  especially 
well  suited  for  observation  behind  the  actual 
lines  on  account  of  morning  and  evening 
movements. 

I  always  looked  for  the  cookhouses  of  Fritz, 
10  143 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

and  I  was  aided  in  this  i)y  the  fact  that  there 
was  little  wind  which  wonld  allow  the  little 
wisps  of  smoke  to  rise  well  above  the 
ground.  My  pilot  wonld  then  get  over  the 
German  lines,  swoop  down,  and  I  would  de- 
posit a  bomb  among  Fritz's  **eats." 

These  bombs  I  would  very  often  make  my- 
self the  day  before  by  ramming  into  a  piece 
of  pipe  a  charge  of  dynamite  to  give  it  a  good 
punch.  Into  one  end  I  would  stick  a  bit  of 
fuse  and  a  detonator  which  was  then  lighted 
by  means  of  a  cigarette  lighter. 

These  bombs  proved  regular  surprise 
parties  to  Fritz,  who  would  run  like  sin  when 
one  of  them  dropped  near  him.  Very  often 
he  kept  his  eye  too  long  on  the  machine  in- 
stead of  on  his  feet,  and  it  was  quite  funny 
to  see  some  of  the  tumbles  he  took.  There 
were  many  other  Fritzies  who  never  got  up 
again. 

In  the  end  I  lost  my  love  for  bombing  Huns 
at  such  close  range.  Once  they  put  a  bullet 
through  our  gasoline  tank  and  we  had  just 
enough  of  it  in  our  emergency  tank  to  take  us 
back  to  our  lines  in  safety.  The  bullet  came 
through  a  corner  of  the  fussalage,  went 
144 


BATTERING  THE  HUN 

through  the  tank,  and  hit  the  nether  side  of 
my  seat,  which  happened  to  be  the  top  of  the 
tank.  Needless  to  say  I  jumped  so  high  that 
my  head  hit  the  top  plane.  I  had  a  horrible 
vision  of  being  wounded  in  such  a  place.  Just 
think  of  the  monotony  of  standing  up  all  the 
time  while  the  cure  is  going  on.  But  I  found 
no  trace  of  blood,  and  was  correspondingly 
grateful.  I  had  only  been  bruised  enough  to 
make  me  appreciate  what  a  wound  in  that 
part  of  my  anatomy  would  mean.  While  I 
was  recovering  from  the  shock,  it  occurred  to 
me  that  it  would  be  well  to  stop  the  leak  in 
the  tank  with  my  finger.  But  by  that  time 
so  little  juice  was  left  in  it  that  it  really  was 
not  worth  while.  On  arriving  home  I  fished 
the  bullet  out  of  the  tank  and  I  have  saved  it 
for  a  souvenir. 

The  experience  did  not  entirely  disgust 
me  with  these  pleasant  little  excursions.  But 
I  was  careful  thereafter  to  supply  my  home- 
made bombs  with  longer  fuses  and  drop  them 
from  a  greater  height. 

Orders  were  received  at  headquarters  one 
day  that  every  man  must  make  his  will — a 
cheerfxd  job.  There  was  very  little  that  I 
145 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

had  to  beqneath  to  anyone  but  what  there 
was  I  left  to  my  mother.  An  Irishman  named 
Holleran,  who  was  full  of  Irish  wit  and  as 
well  read  as  he  was  witty,  drew  up  his  own 
will,  and  when  he  handed  it  to  the  command- 
ing officer  of  the  squadron,  he  said: 

**Well,  sir,  I  am  a  Socialist,  and  I  believe 
in  Socialism.  IVe  got  nothing,  and  I  want 
to  divide  it  with  everybody.'' 

Poor  old  John!  He  was  the  life  of  the 
squadron  until  he  and  his  pilot  were  hit  by 
one  of  our  own  shells  and  brought  down  in 
Hunland. 


CHAPTER  XII 


'*PIZZ"    AND    **KANDIE" 


One  of  the  most  consistent  combinations 
of  pilot  and  good  fellow  was  to  be  found  in 
Phil  Prothero.  He  was  a  daredevil  Scots- 
man. He  was  wild;  that  is  to  say  he  would 
do  anything  in  the  world. 

'^Pizz,"  as  we  called  him,  flew  a  little  scont- 
ing  machine  and  spent  the  greater  part  of 
the  time  keeping  the  guns  and  sights  on  his 
machine  in  perfect  order.  He  had  brought 
down  four  Huns,  but  of  late  he  had  had  a 
streak  of  bad  luck.  He  would  get  up  at  three 
in  the  morning,  go  down  to  the  ^drome,  and 
have  his  machine  pulled  out  of  the  hangar  by 
the  sleepy  mechanics.  Then  he  would  pile 
into  his  flying  clothes,  get  up  about  fifty  feet 
from  the  ground,  and  come  rushing  over  the 
camp,  waking  the  rest  of  us  up  on  his  way 
to  the  lines  in  search  of  a  Hun  who  might  be 
doing  an  early  patrol.  But  he  never  got  his 
147 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

chance  nntil  he  had  lost  many  a  good  morn- 
ing's sleep.  One  morning,  after  he  had  been 
doing  this  sort  of  thing  for  about  two  weeks, 
he  happened  to  be  a  few  miles  behind  the 
Hun  lines  and  was  flying  low,  since  the  ground 
mist  made  it  hard  to  see  from  a  great  height. 

**Pizz"  was  sailing  along  when  he  was  sud- 
denly surprised  by  the  rat-a-tat-tat  of  the 
machine  gun  of  a  Hun  who  had  settled  on  his 
tail.  He  sized  the  situation  up  in  a  flash, 
looped  over  the  Hun  and  fired  about  ten  shots, 
when  his  well  petted  gun  jammed.  ^^Pizz'' 
simply  went  wild  and  had  to  drop  out  of  the 
fight.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  return 
home  for  repairs. 

He  landed  and  had  the  jam  rectified  by  the 
gunsmith  of  the  squadron  and  away  he  went 
again  to  the  lines,  looking  for  his  Hun. 

But  the  Hun  was  no  longer  aloft,  so  **Pizz'^ 
went  over  to  a  German  'drome  and  there  he 
found  one  who  was  just  getting  up  into  the 
air. 

"Pizz"  let  him  get  up  a  ways  and  then  fell 

upon  him  like  a  hawk,  bringing  him  down  on 

his  own  'drome.    *'Pizz"  then  went  very  low 

over  the  German  hangars  and  fired  the  rest 

148 


'*PIZZ"  AND  ^^KANDIE" 

of  his  ammunition  at  the  frightened  men, 
who  ran  all  over  the  place  looking  for  cover. 
After  putting  the  fear  of  the  Lord  into  the 
Hnns  on  the  aerodrome  properly,  **Pizz" 
started  for  home,  climbing  all  the  time  to 
cross  the  lines  at  a  good  height.  But  the  Hun 
Archies  got  a  line  on  him  and  started  to  ex- 
plode high  explosive  shrapnel  all  around  him. 

Just  as  he  was  crossing  the  lines  home- 
ward bound,  a  *  *  woolly  bear ' '  burst  right  near 
him,  knocking  his  engine  out  of  the  machine. 
The  machine  was  completely  unbalanced  by 
this  and  now  uncontrollable,  but  **Pizz"  kept 
his  head  and  got  ready  for  the  crash.  It  came 
all  right  and  poor  old  **Pizz''  was  pretty 
badly  damaged,  having  four  ribs  broken,  his 
face  cut  and  bruised,  in  addition  to  sustaining 
several  internal  injuries. 

He  went  to  the  hospital  for  a  while  but 
soon  recovered.  He  was  sent  to  a  famous 
fighting  squadron  and  there  he  was  just  as 
wild  as  ever.  He  went  up  one  day,  and  while 
on  patrol  tackled  the  Eed  Hun,  so  called  be- 
cause his  machine  was  painted  red.  They 
fought  for  twenty-five  minutes  and  finally 
poor  old  **Pizz''  was  shot  down. 
149 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Another  scout  came  along  and  soon  the 
Red  Hun  was  engaged  in  another  battle. 
He  was  a  good  pilot  and  showed  it  by  the 
way  he  played  for  position,  darting  hither 
and  thither,  but  the  Allied  airman  proved  too 
much  for  him,  and  before  long  the  Hun  came 
down  in  a  spinning  nose  dive  and  on  fire. 
He  came  down  so  fast  that  one  could  hear  the 
machine  whistle  as  it  came  hurtling  through 
space,  then  the  sound  of  crashing  wood  and 
rending  of  fabric.  And  in  two  minutes  noth- 
ing was  left  but  a  small  heap  of  burning 
wreckage.    So  passed  the  Red  Hun. 

We  all  mourned  old  **Pizz,"  for  every  one 
liked  him.  We  buried  the  remains  of  the  Red 
Hun,  for  he  had  been  a  real  sportsman.  But 
there  was  little  left  of  him.  That  little  we 
gathered  in  a  sack  and  the  chaplain  read  the 
burial  services  at  his  grave. 

We  then  sent  a  message  by  air  to  his  aero- 
drome, telling  of  the  fight  and  burial,  and  a 
short  time  later  we  received  the  same  sort  of 
message  concerning  **Pizz,"  and  we  all  felt 
better. 

But  patrol  work  and  artillery  fire  spotting, 
with  now  and  then  a  long  reconnaissance  trip, 
150 


**PIZZ"  AND  '*EANDIE" 

were  not  all  of  our  tasks.  We  used  to  take 
photographs  up  in  the  air  and  found  that 
quite  interesting.  These  things  made  up  our 
daily  routine  and  it  had  to  be  some  very- 
exceptional  thing  in  the  end  which  at  all  im- 
pressed anybody.  The  exigencies  of  our  call- 
ing were  such  that  we  grew  not  only  indif- 
ferent to  danger,  but  we  became  also  very 
blase  towards  everything.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  keen  rivalry,  even  to  a  fighting  point, 
among  the  various  squadrons,  but  what  hard 
feeling  there  was  generally  vanished  when 
some  man  died.  In  that  case  it  was 
found  that  he  had  always  been  everybody's 
friend  and  his  memory  was  held  sacred  by 
all. 

Eoutine  is  likely  to  give  life  very  common- 
place aspects,  as  we  thought,  until  some 
daredevil  pilot  would  volplane  us  to  the 
ground  and  add  a  few  somersaults  or  loops 
just  before  he  landed  in  the  field,  just  to  break 
the  monotony.  Some  of  the  pilots  had  a  habit 
of  just  missing  the  tops  of  our  huts  in  order 
that  the  noise  of  the  motor  might  break  our 
sleep  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning. 
We  might  get  up  and  curse  the  man  until  the 
151 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

air  was  blue  and  shont  vengeful  words  after 
him,  but  that  would  do  no  good.  .The  fact 
is  that  right  down  in  your  heart  you  loved 
that  same  fellow  like  a  brother. 

In  the  air  service  men  will  stand  on  the 
ground  and  shudder  at  sights  that  they  them- 
selves have  been  responsible  for  when  over 
the  lines  of  the  enemy.  Moreover,  you  al- 
ways have  a  feeling  for  any  of  the  boys  who 
are  doing  their  bit  in  the  danger  zone.  And 
after  that  you  get  into  your  bus  and  go  up 
and  do  more  of  it. 

Even  a  pilot  ofttimes  stands  on  the  ground 
and  shivers  to  see  some  of  the  things  another 
flyer  is  doing.  But  he  will  climb  into  his  own 
machine  and  go  up  and  do  the  same  stunts 
himself. 

But  there  were  times  when  I  had  reason 
to  wish  myself  back  on  the  ground  even  if  it 
was  under  the  most  terrific  shell  fire  that  I 
had  seen.  The  man  who  is  wounded  in  the 
trenches  or  out  on  the  open  field  does  not 
fall  very  far  as  a  rule,  and  he  has  a  fighting 
chance  for  his  life.  But  the  flyer  who  is  hit 
in  the  air  has  a  small  chance,  and  it  made  me 
think  of  the  old  saying,  **If  you're  hit  on  the 
152 


'*PIZZ''  AND  ^^EANDIE" 

gronnd  there  you  are,  but  if  you're  hit  in 
the  air  where  are  you?" 

However,  I  had  joined  the  air  service  for 
better  or  for  worse  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  stick  to  it.  I  saw  a  lot  of  machines  shot 
down  in  the  course  of  time.  Some  of  them 
took  fire  up  in  the  air.  Others  crumbled  to 
bits  as  they  hit  the  ground,  and  in  nearly  all 
cases  their  crews  were  killed.  Now  and  then 
the  men  in  the  machine  would  still  live  a  day 
or  two  before  they  made  their  last  trip  West. 
But  in  only  a  few  cases  did  men  live  long 
after  they  had  come  to  earth  from  any 
great  height  in  a  machine  which  was  out 
of  control. 

I  used  to  think  this  thing  over,  but  the 
thought  never  occurred  to  me  that  my  end 
would  come  in  that  fashion. 

I  was  summoned  to  appear  before  the  com- 
manding officer  one  day.  He  needed  a  gunner 
for  a  pilot  who  was  going  to  take  photo- 
graphs. I  felt  less  like  flying  on  that  day 
than  I  had  ever  done,  but  I  went  neverthe- 
less— I  went  because  I  had  no  choice,  of 
course.  The  commanding  officer  of  a  squad- 
ron is  to  the  men  of  his  unit  a  little  god,  whose 
153 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

word  is  law  and  whom  you  dare  not  dis- 
obey if  you  wish  to  avoid  unpleasant  eon- 
sequences. 

So  when  the  officer  said,  ** Roberts,  you  go 
with  Hyatt  as  gunner,"  I  said: 

**Yes,  sir.'' 

That  was  all  there  was  to  it.  I  might  have 
thought  a  lot,  but  those  thoughts  will  always 
remain  unspoken.  For  orders  must  be  obeyed 
to  the  letter,  whether  the  job  is  dangerous 
or  not,  under  penalty  of  court  martial  for 
cowardice,  so  reads  the  little  book  called 
King's  Rules  and  Regulations. 

We  got  to  a  good  height  in  very  little  time. 
In  those  days  the  average  photograph  was 
taken  at  the  height  of  from  6,000  to  7,000 
feet. 

It  happened  to  be  a  perfectly  clear  day  in 
May.  We  got  to  the  Hun  lines  and  they  were 
waiting  for  us  it  seemed.  As  soon  as  we 
stuck  our  noses  over  their  lines  they  started 
to  shell  us  for  all  they  were  worth.  I  had 
never  seen  such  a  shelling  of  an  aeroplane 
before,  and  I  confess  that  I  was  thoroughly 
frightened — almost  frantic.  The  pilot  was 
intent  upon  making  good  photographs,  and  he 
154 


CITY  OF  ALBERT,  FRANCE,  TAKEN 
FROM  SEVENTY-FIVE  HUNDRED 
FEET  WITH  MACHINE  ON  VER- 
TICAL   BANK 


SLIGHTLY    NOSE-HEAVY 


READY    FOR    ACTION 


THE   PILOT 


**PIZZ''  AND  ^^EANDIE'' 

had  to  stay  within  the  7,000  feet  altitude  in 
order  to  get  them. 

There  being  no  Hnn  plane  np,  I  had  little 
to  do.  I  was  kneeling  in  my  seat  and  looking 
for  Huns  but  not  a  one  came,  nor  was  there 
any  reason  why  they  should  in  all  that 
*  *  Archie ' '  exhibition.  The  chances  were  very 
good  that  the  Hun  anti-aircraft  batteries 
would  get  us  down  without  some  Heinie 
having  to  take  a  risk.  We  circled  and  circled 
over  the  German  lines  until  Hyatt  had  taken 
fifty-six  photos,  as  fine  a  collection  of  the 
Hun  first,  second  and  third  lines  as  had  ever 
been  made. 

When  Hyatt  had  done  that  he  had  to  pro- 
long the  agony  by  photographing  the  Hun 
reserve  positions ;  not  that  he  wanted  to,  for 
he  was  as  frightened  as  I  was.  And  after 
that  we  concluded  that  we  might  just  as  well 
fly  back  home. 

Well,  when  we  counted  the  holes  in  our 
planes  in  the  aerodrome  we  discovered  that 
ninety-six  holes,  of  various  sizes,  made  by 
high  explosive  shrapnel,  had  robbed  our 
planes  of  much  of  their  carrying  capacity.  A 
few  more  and  the  old  bus  would  have  settled 
155 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

down  in  Hnnland  no  matter  how  much  speed 
the  motor  might  kick  up. 

I  was  interested  in  the  course  which  some 
of  the  shrapnel  balls  had  taken  and  discovered 
that  many  of  them  had  come  too  close  for 
solid  comfort.  One  of  them,  for  instance, 
mnst  have  missed  my  ankles  by  the  veriest 
fraction  of  an  inch.  Another  one  had  gone 
through  the  plane  near  the  pilot  and  ac- 
counted for  a  slit  nine  inches  long  in  Hyatt  ^s 
leather  coat. 

I  must  make  another  remark  about  the 
holes  in  our  planes.  They  were  not  small  by 
any  means.  One  of  them  was  large  enough 
for  a  cat  to  be  thrown  through.  I  guess  that 
a  whole  shrapnel  case  must  have  gone  through 
the  plane.  Shrapnel  holes  in  the  planes  and 
the  smaller  perforations  left  by  machine  gun 
bullets  had  ceased  to  be  of  any  consequence 
to  the  boys,  however. 

When  I  first  entered  the  air  service  men 
still  counted  such  things,  and  on  the  aero- 
dromes they  used  to  establish  records  based 
on  the  number  of  holes  in  a  machine.  But 
that  got  to  be  an  old  joke.  The  only  per- 
formance which  counted  at  this  time  was  to 
156 


*^PIZZ"  AND  '^EANDIE'' 

come  hurtling  througli  the  air  for  several 
thousand  feet,  land  on  the  nose  of  the  ma- 
chine, and  then  get  from  nnder  the  wreck  with 
enough  life  left  in  you  to  make  patching  up 
worth  while.  If  that  could  be  done  from  ten 
to  fifteen  thousand  feet,  well  and  good,  and  if 
en  route  the  gasoline  tank  took  fire,  good 
night.  Nothing  short  of  that  could  get  a 
thrill  out  of  the  tough  lot  they  had  around 
the  aerodromes. 

We  used  to  have  considerable  fun  with  the 
captive  balloons  of  the  Huns.  The  purpose  of 
our  attacks  on  them  was  to  set  them  on  fire, 
for  nothing  short  of  that  could  ever  hurt  them 
unless  you  shot  them  full  of  machine  gun 
bullets.  These  captive  balloons  went  up 
rather  high,  so  our  machines  had  a  fair  chance 
at  them,  if  they  could  surprise  them. 

The  bombs  we  used  to  drop  on  the  captive 
balloons  were  of  a  deadly  nature  not  only  in 
so  far  that  the  phosphorus  they  contained 
would  ignite  the  gas,  but  in  addition  to  that 
they  were  deadly  if  dropped  on  the  men  in  the 
trenches,  as  they  produced  incurable  burns, 
and  the  fumes  were  horrible  to  breathe,  as 
they  contained  a  sort  of  gas.  Old  Eandie,  one 
157 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

of  our  pilots,  was  sent  over  one  day  to  get  a 
Hun  sausage.  He  went  up  three  times  before 
he  finally  got  it. 

This  particular  sausage  had  had  a  great 
deal  of  our  attention.  It  never  came  up  twice 
in  the  same  place,  but  moved  up  or  down  the 
road  a  hundred  yards  before  it  ascended. 
Generally,  it  was  from  two  to  three  miles 
behind  the  lines. 

We  all  wondered  what  this  Hun  was  up  to^ 
and  Randie  was  sent  up  to  find  out.  With  his 
load  of  bombs  aboard  he  started  up.  The 
Hun  watched  him  come,  for  to  the  Hun  an  Al- 
lied flying  machine  means  death  in  various 
ways. 

This  one  knew  that  Randie  was  after  him,  so 
he  had  his  balloon  pulled  down  as  soon  as 
Randie  came  at  all  near  him. 

But  the  Hun  seemed  very  anxious  to  con« 
tinue  his  observations  and  went  up  again. 
Randie,  who  had  returned,  started  for  him 
once  more.  In  that  manner  they  played  hide 
and  seek  for  about  two  hours. 

Finally  Randie  climbed  up  and  found  a 
hiding  place  behind  a  cloud.  The  other 
thought  that  his  tormentor  was  gone,  but  dis- 
158 


''PIZZ''  AND  **RANDIE'' 

covered  shortly  that  he  was  mistaken.  When 
the  balloon  was  up  about  half  way,  Randie 
took  a  dive  from  his  hiding  place  and  made 
straight  for  it,  and  then  pulled  the  plugs  to 
release  the  bombs.  The  two  Huns  in  the  cap- 
tive balloon  saw  it  coming,  but  there  was 
nothing  that  they  could  do.  Randie  was  upon 
them  before  they  knew  it,  and  as  soon  as  the 
bombs  hit  they  both  jumped.  It  is  not  the 
prettiest  sight  in  the  world  to  see  two  men 
jump  out  of  a  balloon  at  four  thousand  feet 
from  the  ground. 

The  parachute  of  one  of  the  men  opened 
after  a  fall  of  five  hundred  feet  or  so.  That 
stopped  his  rapid  progress  through  the  air 
and  he  descended  safely  enough.  But  the 
parachute  of  the  other  Hun  never  opened 
at  all  and  he  looked  like  a  weighted  rat  as 
he  sailed  earthward.  A  speck  of  dust  showed 
where  he  hit.  He  was  only  a  Hun  but  he  was 
game,  and  old  Randie  afterwards  told  me 
that  he  felt  sorry  for  him.  And  Randie 
knew ;  he  was  an  old  timer,  and  game  to  the 
cere. 

Randie  made  the  supreme  sacrifice  a  short 
time  later  when  he  was  hit  by  a  high  explosive 
II  159 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

shell  while  flying  at  about  one  thousand  feet. 

Randie  was  an  Englishman — an  English 
public  schoolboy,  well  brought  up.  There  is 
something  in  the  training  those  boys  get 
in  one  of  those  schools  which  they  never  for- 
get. They  are  gentlemen  and  they  show  this 
quality.  An  Englishman  who  has  been 
through  Eton,  Oxford  or  Harrow  can  be 
spotted  as  soon  as  you  start  talking  to  him, 
and  he  is  generally  as  game  as  they  make 
them.  I  have  met  several  in  my  travels  and 
they  nearly  all  pan  out  alike. 

And  Randie  was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
He  was  a  gentleman  and  a  sport.  He  did  not 
believe  in  hard  work,  but  he  did  believe  in  ef- 
ficiency. He  read  a  lot,  and  once  in  a  while 
you  would  see  Randie  drop  his  book  and  call 
for  his  bus.  The  mechanics,  who  liked  him 
as  much  as  we  did  and  who  would  do  any- 
thing for  him,  would  get  his  bus  out.  Then 
Randie  would  put  on  his  helmet  and  fly  out 
to  the  line  just  to  tease  the  Huns,  as  he  called 
it.  He  would  fly  behind  the  Hun  lines  and 
of  course  the  ** Archies''  would  start  work- 
ing on  him,  and  for  every  shell  that  '* Archie" 
exploded  Randie  would  give  him  a  loop. 
160 


«*PIZZ''  AND  **EANDIE" 

Randie  would  do  that  for  a  time  and  then 
take  a  dive  at  the  Hun  lines,  empty  out  two 
or  three  drums  of  ammunition,  and  fly  back 
home.  Then  he  would  get  out  his  book  and 
start  to  read  again  just  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 


CHAPTER  Xm 


DAEEDEVILS 


In  the  days  when  flying  was  largely  de- 
fence and  observation,  and  not  on  such  a  large 
scale  as  it  is  now,  the  pilots  in  various  squad- 
rons used  to  try  and  beat  each  other  doing 
tricks  or  stunts  with  aeroplanes.  One  man 
would  go  up  and  do  a  series  of  loops,  another 
did  tail  slides  and  stalls,  as  we  term  a 
manoeuvre  in  which  the  machine  is  brought  to 
a  dead  stop  after  reaching  the  apex  of  an  up- 
ward curve.  Another  would  do  side  slides 
and  nose  dives.  And  soon  every  one  could 
do  everyone  else's  stunts.  Flying  schools 
taught  pupils  that  a  spinning  nose  dive  was 
fatal  and  no  one  had  ever  gotten  out  of  one 
alive. 

In  1916  some  daredevil  pilot  flying  a  new 

type  of  machine,  while  flying  along  would  roll 

his  machine  completely  over  sideways.    Then 

some  other  pilot  figured  how  to  get  out  of  a 

162 


DAREDEVILS 

spinning  nose  dive  without  injuring  himself 
or  the  machine.  Then  the  roll  was  applied 
while  the  machine  was  upside  down  at  the 
top  of  a  loop,  which  meant  that  the  machine 
was  started  into  a  loop,  and  while  upside 
down  on  the  top  of  the  loop  it  was  rolled  over 
to  its  proper  position. 

Soon  the  scout  schools  were  teaching  their 
pupils  to  do  all  such  stunts,  and  they  were  ap- 
plied to  gain  time  or  to  win  advantage  over 
an  adversary  while  engaged  in  combat,  or  to 
dodge  anti-aircraft  shells.  In  this  manner 
the  art  of  flying  was  developed  by  leaps  and 
bounds. 

It  was  surprising  to  see  the  number  of  evo- 
lutions a  machine  could  be  put  through  by  a 
pilot  who  could  do  stunts  properly.  It  was  a 
common  occurrence  to  see  the  machines  come 
back  from  the  lines  and  patrol  work  doing  all 
kinds  of  funny  stunts.  They  would  cut  all 
sorts  of  queer  figures  like  a  litter  of  playful 
kittens.  There  were  a  number  of  other  stunts 
in  which  the  pilots  took  pride,  such  as  flying 
just  a  few  feet  from  the  ground  behind  the 
German  lines,  or  skipping  just  over  the  tops 
of  the  parapets  of  the  Hun  front  lines,  using 
163 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

their  machine  guns  as  they  went.  These 
manoeuvres  were  very  dangerous,  but  a  flying 
man  in  his  prime  never  thinks  of  danger — ^if 
he  did  he  would  quit  flying. 

In  the  early  part  of  1916  I  used  to  fly  as 
observer  for  a  daredevil  pilot  best  known 
as  K.  K.'s  one  ambition  was  to  touch 
the  wheels  of  his  under  carriage  on  the 
ground  somewhere  behind  the  Hun  lines. 

Generally  when  a  man  does  things  that  are 
forbidden  something  happens.  Fate  seems 
to  punish  one  for  the  things  that  are  fool- 
hardy. And  if  fate  had  punished  K  on  this 
special  occasion  I  might  not  be  here  to  tell 
the  tale.  But  fortunately  fate  waited  until 
our  return  to  the  aerodrome. 

We  were  up  on  an  early  morning  patrol, 
having  started  at  dawn,  and  there  was  no  ac- 
tion behind  the  German  lines,  as  was  usually 
the  case  at  that  hour  in  the  morning.  The 
sun  was  just  starting  to  show  itself  over  the 
horizon  and  with  it  came  the  promise  of  a 
fine  day,  which  meant  lots  of  work. 

I  was  busy  looking  for  a  battery  of  German 
guns  which  had  been  reported  active  the 
night  before,  when  all  at  once  the  Hun  air- 
164 


DAREDEVILS 

craft  batteries  opened  fire  on  us.  The  ex- 
plosion of  the  shells  came  so  thick  and  heavy 
that  our  machine  was  tossed  around  by  the 
concussion  as  if  it  were  a  cigarette  paper. 
K  shut  off  his  power,  and  I  kept  watch  to  find 
the  batteries  that  were  doing  the  shooting.  I 
found  one  on  the  way  down,  but  I  soon  lost 
all  eagerness  to  put  it  out  of  action,  for  K 
made  no  attempt  at  getting  back  to  our 
lines. 

I  looked  over  to  make  sure  he  was  not 
wounded,  and,  as  the  engine  still  turned,  I 
wondered  what  was  happening. 

"We  went  down  behind  the  German  lines 
until  we  were  just  over  the  tree  tops.  K  then 
opened  the  throttle  and  the  engine  responded 
all  right,  but  he  closed  it  again,  and  I  can't 
describe  the  strange  sensation  I  had.  I 
swallowed  my  heart,  and  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  was  to  be  a  prisoner  for  the  duration 
of  the  war. 

That  thought  was  not  pleasant,  especially 
after  hearing  the  hair-raising  tales  which 
were  told  of  the  way  our  prisoners  were  be- 
ing treated  by  the  Germans.  I  shouted  to  K 
that  the  engine  was  all  right,  but  he  merely 
165 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

looked  at  me.  I  put  a  drnm  of  amnmnition 
on  my  Lewis  gun,  for  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
to  kiU  him  if  he  were  a  spy,  and  then  I  would 
make  the  attempt  to  fly  the  machine  back 
myself. 

•We  glided  gently  down  and  touched  the 
ground.  Over  the  field  I  saw  three  German 
soldiers  racing  to  capture  us.  Just  then 
K  pulled  open  the  throttle  and  away  we  went 
up  in  the  air  once  more.  My  nerves  just  quiv- 
ered with  joy,  and  I  took  aim  at  our  would-be 
captors  and  let  the  bullets  fly  in  a  stream. 
But  the  air  currents  near  the  ground  were  so 
erratic  that  I  did  not  hit  them.  "We  headed 
for  home. 

As  we  crossed  our  own  lines  I  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief.  K  looked  at  me  and  smiled. 
He  had  realized  his  ambition  to  touch  the 
ground  behind  the  German  lines,  but  he  had 
also  given  me  the  scare  of  my  life,  for  I  did 
not  know  what  he  was  about.  K  swore  me 
to  secrecy  as  it  meant  an  awful  ** strafing"  if 
the  squadron  commander  ever  heard  of  his 
exploit. 

I  kept  my  word  until  poor  K  had  touched 
the  ground  behind  the  German  lines  for  the 
166 


DAREDEVILS 

last  time.  The  conunanding  officer  and  I  met 
in  England  one  day  and  I  told  him  all  about 
it.  He  did  not  say  mnch,  bnt  I  could  see  that 
he  was  thinking  very  hard. 

They  have  some  beautiful  summer  days  in 
France,  especially  in  June  and  July,  the 
months  in  which  the  Somme  offensive  began 
in  1916.  I  was  up  one  day  about  three  o  'clock 
in  the  afternoon  spotting  fire  for  one  of  our 
batteries.  I  was  at  an  elevation  of  six  thou- 
sand five  hundred  feet  and  about  six  miles  to 
the  rear  of  the  Hun  lines. 

I  was  keeping  our  lines  in  my  sight,  how- 
ever, which  is  a  proper  habit  with  flying  men. 
Of  a  sudden  I  noticed  that  it  became  difficult 
to  see  them ;  then  I  noticed  that  the  sky  was 
gradually  being  blotted  out  by  heavy  storm 
clouds  which  were  coming  from  all  direc- 
tions. 

I  drew  the  pilot's  attention  to  this.  He  was 
of  the  opinion  that  he  would  have  to  climb 
over  the  clouds.  That  sounded  good  to  me. 
I  did  not  want  to  return  to  the  aerodrome 
just  then  for  the  reason  that  the  Hun  bat- 
teries, taking  advantage  of  the  storm,  were 
giving  it  to  our  lines  hot  and  heavy,  and 
167 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

in  doing  so  they  were  showing  their  locations 
by  the  flashes  of  the  pieces. 

I  was  taking  down  the  location  of  the  bat- 
teries on  my  map  with  the  intention  of  having 
them  later  shot  up  by  the  GO-ponnders  of  old 
Mac's  battery. 

But  that  storm  hit  us  fair  and  square 
within  a  few  minutes :  and  when  its  first  gusts 
struck  us  I  had  the  sensation  that  our  ma- 
chine was  being  tossed  about  like  a  cigarette 
paper. 

It  was  a  lucky  thing  that  I  had  strapped 
myself  in,  for  otherwise  I  would  have  been 
thrown  out.  We  were  in  a  cloud  that  was  so 
dense  that  I  could  not  see  the  propeller  nor 
even  the  tips  of  the  wings.  I  looked  at  the 
aneroid,  but  it  showed  nothing  that  I  could 
make  anything  of.  It  had  grown  so  dark  that 
the  instrument  could  no  longer  be  read. 

At  first  we  were  surrounded  by  an  abso- 
lute silence,  and  then  the  storm  broke  loose. 
Before  very  long  we  seemed  to  find  our- 
selves in  a  veritable  hell  of  lightning  and 
crashing. 

We  traveled  for  quite  a  distance  in  the  dark 
with  no  means  of  knowing  our  elevation.  I 
168 


DAREDEVILS 

began  to  fear  that  we  might  hit  a  church 
steeple  or  a  house  or  something  else  on  the 
ground.  The  rain  was  now  falling  heavily 
and  added  to  our  confusion  and  difficulty.  To 
make  matters  worse  it  dissolved  the  dye  on 
the  edge  of  my  goggles.  The  mixture  got 
into  my  eyes,  which  began  to  smart  terribly. 

With  the  rain  beating  into  my  face  it  was 
more  necessary  than  ever  to  keep  on  the  gog- 
gles. However,  the  dye  that  was  running 
over  them  irritated  me,  so  that  finally  I  con- 
cluded to  protect  my  eyes  with  my  hands.  But 
the  rain  bit  into  them,  and  the  parts  of  my 
face  that  were  exposed,  so  viciously  that  I 
had  to  put  the  goggles  on  again. 

The  same  thing  had  happened  to  the  pilot, 
who  was  as  thoroughly  blinded  as  myself 
and  had  crouched  into  the  cockpit  to  find 
some  protection. 

The  chances  of  weathering  that  storm  did 
not  seem  very  good,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  I  was  about  due  to  collect  something 
this  time  from  the  Huns. 

My  conclusion  was  not  far  wrong.  Peex)- 
ing  over  the  side  of  the  body  of  the  machine 
I  saw  the  backs  of  some  horses  just  under- 
169 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

neath  us,  and  in  another  moment  or  two  we 
had  landed  on  the  crest  of  a  little  hill. 

I  did  not  know  whether  or  not  we  were  on 
onr  own  side  of  the  line,  but  my  mind  was 
soon  set  at  ease,  for  a  British  Padre  came 
toiling  up  the  hill  and  the  first  question  he 
asked  was  if  we  had  seen  any  captive  bal- 
loons drifting  about. 

It  seemed  that  three  of  our  balloons  had 
broken  away.  I  hadn't  seen  any  balloons  nor 
had  the  pilot.  After  that  we  took  time  to 
thank  our  stars  that  we  were  still  alive  and 
had  not  landed  a  few  miles  further  east  in 
Hunland. 

The  battery  commander,  with  whom  we 
were  doing  the  "shoot,''  had  telephoned  to 
the  commanding  officer  of  our  squadron  and 
had  told  him  that  we  had  last  been  seen 
going  backward  over  the  Hun  lines.  The 
good  man  was  sure  that  he  had  seen  us  for  the 
last  time,  and  he  was  not  a  little  surprised 
when  we  showed  up. 

It  was  some  time  before  we  could  get  in 

touch  with  the  squadron,  and  when  we  did  it 

we  were  just  able  to  prevent  our  names  from 

being  put  on  the  list  of  the  missing.    There 

170 


DAREDEVILS 

was  a  great  reunion  on  our  arrival  at  the 
squadron  and  we  celebrated  it  that  night  in 
good  old  style  by  having  wine  with  our 
supper. 

Shortly  after  that  I  went  out  for  patrol 
practice  behind  our  own  lines  with  a  brigade 
of  infantry  who  were  to  take  part  in  the 
Somme  offensive.  The  brigade  in  question 
had  never  been  in  action  before,  and  since  it 
was  to  have  that  chance  in  the  near  future  it 
had  to  go  through  the  necessary  manoeuvres. 

After  practicing  for  two  hours  I  came  down 
at  the  aerodrome  and  was  told  by  the  com- 
manding officer  that  the  general  commanding 
the  brigade  was  so  pleased  with  my  work 
that  I  was  to  have  dinner  with  him. 

I  started  for  his  headquarters  in  the  after- 
noon and  we  discussed  contact  control  and 
its  merits  while  dining.  After  that  he  invited 
me  to  go  with  his  staff  on  a  big  hunt  in  the 
near-by  woods,  where  I  was  told  still  lived 
some  wild  boars. 

That  hunt  proved  to  be  a  very  interesting 

experience.   Instead  of  guns  long  spears  were 

used,  and  we  rode  the  best  horses  that  could 

be  found.    But  I  am  not  used  to  the  flat  sad- 

171 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

die  and  that  was  where  my  troubles  began.  I 
can  ride  almost  any  horse  with  a  Mexican  sad- 
dle, but  to  ride  an  English  saddle,  known  in 
the  Western  States  as  a  postage  stamp,  is  a 
different  thing.  Nor  was  this  all.  The  horse 
I  was  to  ride  was  a  fine  hunter  of  good  height 
who  had  been  trained  for  fox  hunting  and  he 
delighted  in  nothing  so  much  as  in  taking 
every  fence  and  hedge  he  came  to.  That 
spear,  too,  was  in  the  way.  It  was  about  ten 
feet  long  and  to  me  was  a  new  implement. 
So  between  the  spear  and  that  horse,  not 
to  mention  the  saddle  I  was  kept  busy  stay- 
ing right  side  up. 

The  hunt  had  started  in  the  forest  and  as 
we  came  to  its  edge  we  could  hear  the  beaters 
shout.  They  were  coming  towards  us  and 
were  driving  a  tusker  before  them.  The  ani- 
mal came  tearing  through  the  underbrush. 
The  first  three  hunters  missed  it  and  then  the 
boar  made  straight  for  my  horse.  Had  I 
been  anything  of  a  pig  hunter  at  all  I  might 
have  gotten  him.  But  that  was  not  to  be. 
Just  as  the  animal  charged  through  the  legs 
of  my  horse,  he  snarled  viciously,  and  that 
hunter  of  mine,  used  more  to  foxes  than  to 
172 


DAREDEVILS 

boars,  started  off.  That  ended  the  pig  hunt 
so  far  as  I  was  concerned.  For  the  next  half 
hour  we  jumped  fences  and  hedges  in  good 
style,  and  then  we,  or  rather  the  horse,  had 
had  enough  of  it.  I  slipped  off  of  the  saddle, 
very  sore  in  certain  parts  of  my  anatomy,  and 
then  walked  the  hunter  back  to  headquarters, 
where  I  exchanged  him  for  my  more  com- 
fortable motor  cycle  and  side  car.  And  the 
general  had  a  hearty  laugh  when  I  related 
to  him  my  experience. 

I  drove  back  to  headquarters  a  very  sore 
man  physically,  but  I  found  solace  in  the  fact 
that  in  another  five  days  my  leave  was  due. 

I  was  looking  forward  to  the  time  I  was  to 
spend  in  England  with  a  great  deal  of  joyful 
anticipation,  and  I  had  enough  money  saved 
up  to  have  another  go  at  London. 

The  boys  tried  to  kid  me  that  night  by 
saying : 

"Oh,  you  will  never  see  Blighty.  What 
will  you  take  for  your  turn  on  the  leave- 
roster!'' 

The  Somme  offensive  was  to  take  place  at 
any  time  now,  and  it  was  extremely  hard  for 
anybody  to  get  leave.  The  chances  of  getting 
173 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

away  from  the  front  for  a  little  while,  as  I 
had  promised  myself,  seemed  indeed  scant. 
That  Somme  offensive  might  last  from  a  week 
to  a  year  for  all  we  knew.  That  was  true 
enough,  and  the  boys  made  it  worse  by  dwell- 
ing on  the  fact  that  before  it  was  over  I  would 
never  need  another  leave.  One  of  them  sug- 
gested that  I  decide  upon  the  sort  of  flowers 
I  wanted  the  boys  to  bring  to  my  funeral. 

Imagine  my  disappointment,  if  you  can. 
For  weeks  and  weeks  I  had  counted  upon  that 
trip  to  England,  and  now  the  Somme  offensive 
was  to  shatter  all  my  plans.  But  there  was 
no  help  for  it. 


CHAPTEE  XIV 


THE  BIG  PUSH 


For  the  last  three  days  before  the  offensive 
the  contact  patrol  men  were  not  allowed  to 
fly.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  tension  notice- 
able everywhere,  and  to  get  away  from  that 
we  sought  some  diversion  in  our  surround- 
ings. 

I  went  to  a  little  French  village  about  two 
miles  away  just  to  look  around  and  talk  to  the 
natives.  I  found  them  immensely  interesting 
and  they  enlightened  me  on  many  points.  I 
inquired  among  other  things  what  their  sports 
were  and  in  what  way  they  enjoyed  them- 
selves. I  was  surprised  when  the  old  veteran 
of  former  wars,  with  whom  I  was  talking, 
went  out  and  brought  in  a  bow  and  a  quiver 
full  of  arrows. 

Now,  archery  is  an  odd  form  of  sport, 
though  very  similar  to  trap  shooting.  I  had 
seen  the  Indians  out  on  the  reservations  in 
12  175 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Canada  and  in  the  States  use  bows  and  ar- 
rows, but  not  to  a  great  extent,  merely  using 
them  to  amuse  the  children.  But  here  it  was 
considered  almost  a  national  sport.  The  old 
man  explained  how  they  held  tournaments 
and  even  went  to  the  extent  of  building  tall 
lattice  work  masts,  on  the  tops  of  which  the 
birds  were  arranged.  Each  competitor  paid 
so  much  to  participate  in  the  shooting  and  the 
receipts  were  given  out  in  prizes  for  the  birds 
that  were  brought  down. 

The  masts  or  perches  are  as  much  as  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  high,  and  on  the 
top  of  them  is  placed  the  master  bird,  for 
which  the  biggest  prize  is  given.  The  other 
targets  all  have  a  value  commensurate  with 
the  difficulty  in  hitting  them. 

The  old  man  took  me  out  in  the  hop  field 
behind  the  house  and  showed  me  how  to  shoot. 
I  must  say  that  he  was  a  master  at  it.  One 
of  the  things  he  hit  was  a  jam  tin  at  fifty 
yards.  I  tried  it  a  good  many  times,  but  that 
jam  tin  might  as  well  have  been  a  mile  away. 
I  visited  the  old  man  quite  often  and  many  a 
bow  and  arrow  shoot  we  had  together. 

Shooting  with  a  bow  was  not  his  only  ex- 
176 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

ploit.  He  had  been  an  old  soldier  and  had 
fought  in  the  war  of  1870  and  had  many  in- 
teresting tales  to  tell  of  how  wars  were  fought 
before  the  aeroplane  came  into  use.  But  he 
used  to  think  it  a  miracle  that  a  machine  could 
stay  up  in  the  air  at  all.  My  efforts  to  make 
him  understand  why  it  could  stay  up  were  all 
Dutch  to  him.  And  as  my  French  was  not 
complete  enough  to  tell  him  the  difference 
between  a  strut  and  a  camber  rib  I  had  to  let 
the  old  man  go  on  thinking  that  the  good 
Lord  or  the  devil  had  a  lot  to  do  with  it.  I 
once  offered  to  take  him  up,  but  he  looked  at 
me  and  shook  his  old  white  head  and  replied : 

**Non,  mon  cher  ami!  I  am  what  you  call 
ze  scare  for  ze  machine  to  fall  on  ze  groun^ 
an'  I'm  broke  ma  por  ol  neck.  I  thank  you  ze 
same  like  I  go  up  wit'  you." 

While  at  another  village  one  day  I  was  in- 
formed that  a  great  cock  fight  was  to  be 
held  on  the  following  Sunday. 

To  me  that  was  something  new.  I  inquired 
what  the  entrance  fees  were  to  be  and  I  was 
told  everything  was  free  and  that  experts 
on  the  game  would  give  me  good  tips  on  which 
birds  to  bet  in  case  I  wanted  to  make  money. 
177 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I  thought  that  there  would  be  a  good 
<;hance  to  get  even  with  that  gang  of  gamblers 
at  the  squadron,  who  had  recently  trinuned 
me  qnite  a  bit.  I  inquired  about  one  of  these 
tipsters,  and  I  was  introduced  to  a  man  who 
said  he  knew  everything  about  cock  fighting 
and  every  battling  fowl  in  the  country. 

I  made  arrangements  with  him  to  tip  me 
to  the  winners,  for  which  I  was  to  pay  him 
twenty  francs.  We  arranged  to  have  the  fights 
close  to  the  squadron  so  that  we  could  be 
handy  to  go  up  in  the  air  at  a  minute's  notice, 
as  nothing  was  allowed  to  interfere  with  our 
work.  Then  I  went  home  all  worked  up  at 
the  prospect  of  such  an  afternoon's  sport 
and  broke  the  news  to  the  bunch,  but  I  did 
not  tell  them  of  my  plan  to  be  the  bookmaker 
of  the  event. 

It  would  have  to  take  place  in  the  afternoon, 
as  the  people  went  to  church  in  the  morning. 

We  waited  all  the  rest  of  the  week  and  I 
had  figured  it  all  out  how  I  was  going  to 
trim  the  boys  on  the  bets.  Sunday  afternoon 
finally  came  on  and  the  sportsmen  gathered 
from  far  and  wide  with  their  game  cocks  in 
sacks. 

178 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

The  arena,  which  had  been  erected,  was. 
made  of  canvas  in  the  form  of  a  little  fence 
about  two  feet  high.  A  canvas  floor  had 
been  pegged  down  and  it  looked  just  like  a 
prize  ring. 

The  announcer  got  upon  a  chair  and  an- 
nounced the  first  event,  which  was  a  sort  of 
preliminary.  About  twenty  of  the  boys  had 
gathered  around.  I  had  made  a  little  booking 
stall  and,  with  my  tipster  as  guide,  I  was  to 
receive  all  comers  in  bets  up  to  one  hundred 
francs.  He  showed  me  the  winner  and  the 
bout  started. 

Now  these  cocks  were  spurred  according 
to  the  judgment  of  the  owner  and  they  had 
sure  made  a  good  job  of  it.  The  supposed 
winner  had  been  armed  with  steel  spurs  two 
and  one-half  inches  long.  But  the  foolish  bird 
was  too  eager  and  jumped  at  the  other  cock 
with  no  judgment,  tripped  himself,  and  went 
to  the  mat.  The  other  cock  climbed  onto  him 
and  would  have  made  a  finish  of  him  had  he 
not  been  pulled  off  in  time. 

Betting  had  been  active  and  my  pile  went 
down  one  hundred  and  fifty  francs. 

The  next  fight  started  and  the  tipster  told 
179 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

me  that  the  winner  wonld  be  the  smaller  cock 
of  the  two.  His  opponent  was  about  twice  his 
size,  and  I  thought  that  if  he  did  as  much  as 
fall  on  the  little  fellow  he  would  surely  kill 
him.  But  the  tipster  was  supposed  to  know, 
and  I  took  his  word  for  it. 

Well,  the  fight  had  no  more  than  started 
than  it  was  over.  The  big  fellow  just  took 
one  swipe  at  the  little  bird  and  ran  one  of 
his  spurs  through  his  neck. 

The  birds  were  taken  out  and  the  pile  went 
down  another  one  hxmdred  and  fifty  francs. 

There  were  only  five  more  fights  to  take 
place,  so  I  decided  to  discharge  my  tipster, 
having  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  knew 
as  much  about  it  as  he  did.  The  next  two 
birds  were  quite  evenly  matched  and  I  picked 
my  own  winner.  He  was  a  ragged  looking 
bird,  but  he  looked  tough  enough  to  bet  on, 
so  I  took  all  comers  against  him.  The  betting 
was  brisk  and  had  I  lost  that  fight  I  would 
have  been  cleaned  out.  But  my  bird  won  and 
I  took  in  about  two  hundred  francs. 

On  the  fourth   fight  I  lost    one   hundred 
francs,  and  just  as  the  last  fight  was  coming 
on  I  figured  how  much  I  would  have  to  make 
180 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

to  break  even,  when  an  orderly  rnshed  over 
with  orders  for  me  to  be  on  line  patrol  in  five 
minutes. 

I  quit  the  fight  abont  three  hundred  francs 
loser. 

That  cured  me  of  betting  on  cock  fights. 
The  money  did  not  matter  much  for  one  never 
knew  but  what  he  would  be  **gone  West"  any 
minute,  and  the  only  good  use  we  had  for 
money  was  to  spend  it  on  leave  and  pay  mess 
bills.  What  was  left  over  changed  hands 
freely  at  roulette,  or  crown  and  anchor,  and 
poker.  The  games  were  not  big  and  no  one 
lost  heavily,  but  it  sure  helped  to  pass  many 
a  weary  hour. 

The  big  drive  started,  and  for  five  days  and 
nights  it  seemed  that  every  gun  on  both  sides 
had  been  brought  down  to  the  front  on  which 
we  worked,  and  we  soon  found  that  a  great 
many  had.  Drum  fire  and  the  like  was  known 
to  us  already,  but  a  bombardment  of  the  in- 
tensity such  as  ushered  in  the  great  infantry 
attacks  was  something  entirely  new  to  us. 

The  shelling  done  by  both  sides  was  ter- 
rific and  we,  who  were  able  to  watch  it  from 
the  air,  wondered  how  a  single  human  being 
181 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

could  survive  the  sho«k.  For  the  time  being 
nothing  seemed  to  matter  because  everybody 
felt  that  a  titanic  struggle  was  on — a  struggle 
which,  it  was  hoped,  would  put  an  end  to  the 
war.  The  boys  had  started  a  tennis  court 
near  the  aerodrome  but  all  work  on  it  ceased. 

Our  artillery  did  its  best  to  break  down 
the  Hun  lines  and  the  Huns  replied  almost 
shot  for  shot.  The  earth  shook  day  and  night, 
and  seven  miles  behind  the  windows  rattled. 

Into  the  trenches  were  being  hurried  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  men  who  were  to  fol- 
low up  the  advantages  gained  by  the 
artillery. 

The  front  had  been  a  busy  place  the  year 
before  but  now  it  was  busier  than  ever.  There 
was  no  end  to  the  artillery  ammunition  con- 
voys, and  I  used  to  wonder  where  Great 
Britain  and  France  were  getting  all  the  men 
that  they  were  hurrying  to  the  front.  Even 
cavalry,  of  which  we  had  seen  very  little  in 
the  past,  put  in  an  appearance. 

It  rained  in  torrents  for  several  days  and 

that  made  aerial  observation  very  difficult  if 

not  wholly  impossible,  besides  making  life  a 

torture  to  the  thousands  of  troops  who  had 

182 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

to  live  outside  during  the  whole  period.  But 
one  never  heard  a  murmur  of  dissatisfaction. 

On  July  1st,  at  4.30  in  the  morning,  two 
planes  from  our  squadron  were  ordered  to 
proceed  to  the  front  for  the  purpose  of  doing 
contact  patrol  duty.  We  had  three  men  in 
our  squadron  who  were  versed  in  that  ac- 
complishment. One  of  the  men  was  named 
Davis,  the  other  Sutton ;  I  was  the  third.  Sut- 
ton was  to  act  as  relief. 

Davis  and  I  had  to  keep  over  the  trenches 
at  an  elevation  of  about  two  hundred  feet, 
the  weather  being  so  bad  that  we  had  to  fly 
low.  We  had  to  take  messages  from  the  men 
in  khaki  on  the  ground,  following  them  as  in 
one  wave  after  another  they  advanced  against 
the  Huns.  But  they  never  got  at  the  Huns. 
Though  the  barbed  wire  entanglements  of 
the  enemy  had  been  cut  in  everywhere,  it 
had  been  cleverly  replaced  by  the  Hun  en- 
gineers. In  a  few  places  our  men  did  get 
through,  however,  and  it  seemed  that  there 
the  victory  was  to  be  ours. 

Our  work  was  not  satisfactory,  however. 
We  could  see  very  little  of  the  fight  for  the 
reason  that  we  had  to  cover  much  space  and 
183 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

were  hardly  ever  able  to  f  oUow  an  operation 
to  its  conclusion.  It  was  also  impossible  to 
gain  much  of  an  impression  on  the  general 
situation.  And  generally  we  knew  little  of 
the  progress  that  had  been  made  until  we  re- 
turned to  camp.  The  commanding  officer  of 
the  squadron  was  not  satisfied  with  our  work. 
He  complained  that  our  message  bags  were 
going  all  over  the  country  and  he  also  had 
fault  to  find  concerning  an  unfinished  mes- 
sage which  I  had  sent  to  headquarters  by 
wireless.  I  was  in  the  act  of  sending  the  mes- 
sage when  my  aerial  was  shot  away,  cutting 
my  message  in  half.  I  dropped  part  of  the 
message  I  had  sent  there  and  then,  and  it 
was  picked  up  at  headquarters.  The  other 
half  of  the  message  which  I  sent  had  not  been 
received,  as  I  had  lost  my  aerial. 

Knowing  that  the  second  half  of  the  mes- 
sage was  of  great  importance,  the  pilot  and 
myself  risked  our  lives  by  a  dive  down  to 
within  fifty  feet  of  the  ground  so  that  we 
might  drop  a  message  bag  at  a  station  which 
was  in  a  garden  quite  well  enclosed  by  trees. 
As  the  machine  rose  again  it  came  within  a 
few  inches  of  running  into  a  balloon  cable 
184 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

which  we  had  not  noticed.  The  cable  was  so 
thin  that  it  was  ahnost  invisible  nntil  we  were 
a  few  feet  away  from  it.  Nevertheless,  we 
were  reprimanded  for  running  needless  risks. 

The  officers  along  the  Somme  front  were  in 
no  pleasant  humor  in  those  days.  It  was  im- 
possible to  get  a  civil  word  from  any  of  them, 
and  everybody  seemed  bent  upon  taking  it 
out  on  the  other  fellow.  Everybody  was  be- 
ing overworked  and  the  strain,  together  with 
the  anxiety  as  to  what  the  result  would  be 
of  this  offensive,  began  to  affect  the  disposi- 
tion of  everybody.  So  many  preparations 
had  been  made  for  the  work  in  hand  and  so 
much  seemed  to  depend  upon  its  successful 
conclusion  that  officers  and  men  alike  thought 
of  nothing  but  the  engagements  that  were 
going  on.  The  slightest  mistake  on  the  part 
of  anybody  was  usually  magnified  many 
times,  until  the  culprit  was  sure  that  he  was 
a  criminal. 

The  Huns  meanwhile  were  bringing  down 
a  good  many  Allied  aviators.  Two  of  the 
best  men  of  our  squadron  were  killed.  One 
of  them,  ** Little"  Jowett,  the  smaller  of  two 
brothers  of  that  name  and  a  chap  whom 
185 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

everybody  liked  very  much,  was  shot  down 
by  the  Huns  while  taking  photographs  behind 
their  line.  Poor  old  Stoddard  was  hit  by  a 
Hun  machine  gun  from  the  ground,  and  he 
and  his  observer  were  killed  in  the  crash. 
These  were  things  that  caused  us  to  think 
hard,  and  many  of  us  lost  our  care-free  ways 
and  began  to  wonder  when  it  would  be  our 
turn. 

One  day  I  went  up  in  the  afternoon  and  did 
some  very  hard  work.  Some  of  our  troops 
had  managed  to  get  into  parts  of  Hunland  and 
had  to  be  carefully  covered  there.  It  was 
even  harder  out  there  to  get  messages  into  the 
proper  hands.  Knowing  what  it  was  to  be 
in  the  trenches  with  the  infantry,  and  feeling 
that  Tommy  Atkins  needed  all  the  assistance 
I  could  give  him,  I  set  about  my  duties  with 
a  will. 

I  realized  how  important  it  was  to  get  my 
messages  to  headquarters  where  they  could 
be  acted  upon.  It  was  often  a  question 
of  saving  many  lives.  That  kept  my  nerves 
high-strung  during  the  four  hours  that  I  was 
on  patrol.  I  was  in  the  habit  of  putting  my 
pencil  in  my  mouth  while  using  the  wireless 
186 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

key,  and  discovered  this  afternoon  that  I  had 
chewed  it  completely  to  bits. 

At  about  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  I  got 
a  message  from  some  of  our  men  who  were 
tied  up  in  a  small  section  of  German  trench 
and  were  being  shelled  there  in  addition  to 
being  machine  gunned.  They  were  in  so 
tight  a  fix  that  they  could  go  neither  forward 
nor  backward,  while  the  Germans  were 
swarming  around  them  like  bees  around  a 
hive.  The  message  I  picked  up  from  the 
ground  said  that  they  were  being  held  in  by 
machine  gun  fire. 

I  could  see  that  a  Hun  gun  emplacement 
with  six  guns,  all  working  at  the  same  time, 
was  causing  the  isolated  group  underneath 
me  as  much  trouble  as  machine  guns  possibly 
could.  So  I  sent  a  message  to  headquarters 
with  a  map  reference  of  the  location  of  the 
German  guns  and  waited  for  developments. 

I  was  soon  rewarded  with  a  sight  which  I 
shall  never  forget.  Within  five  minutes  of  the 
time  that  I  had  flashed  back  my  message,  one 
of  our  batteries  was  putting  into  the  German 
emplacement  shells  that  hit  the  very  spot. 
Next  morning  I  had  a  good  look  at  the  place 
187 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

but  found  nothing  but  a  lot  of  shell  holes  and 
a  few  lifeless  gray  forms  on  the  ground. 

That  day  again  we  worked  until  darkness 
made  it  impossible  to  pick  up  messages  from 
the  ground.  But  even  after  that  the  fighting 
continued.  The  heavy  detonations  of  the 
large  guns  and  the  explosion  of  the  big  shells 
kept  up  a  fearful  racket.  As  I  soared  aloft 
it  seemed  to  me  that  all  the  world  had  gone 
crazy.  The  very  air  trembled  and  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach  was  seen  the  flash  of  gun 
and  shell.  The  powder  fumes  kept  drifting 
over  the  ground.  They  were  first  illumined 
by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  and  later  by 
the  star  shells.  The  scene  was  m^st  spec- 
tacular. 

Meanwhile  the  ambulances  were  rushing 
back  and  forth  from  advanced  position  to  the 
field  dressing  stations,  and  later  others  took 
up  the  work  clearing  these  stations  by  taking 
the  wounded  men  to  the  rear.  That  work 
continued  all  night,  and  it  was  only  then  that 
we  began  to  realize  the  heavy  sacrifices  that 
were  being  made  by  the  men  who  wenf  over 
the  top. 

That  sort  of  thing  went  on  for  days  and 
188 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

nights  without  interruption.  It  seemed  to  us 
that  the  work  was  piling  up  faster  than  we 
could  attend  to  it.  There  was  no  limit  to  what 
the  officers  in  charge  demanded  of  their 
subalterns  and  men,  and  every  nerve  was  be- 
ing strained  to  the  utmost.  In  the  past  I  had 
gone  up  only  occasionally,  as  it  now  seemed 
to  me.  But  now  I  was  up  in  the  air  almost 
constantly.  My  machine  would  hardly  land 
before  some  orderly  would  pounce  upon  us 
with  new  instructions.  We  had  barely  time 
enough  to  eat  in  peace,  and  usually  our  sleep 
was  interrupted  at  dawn,  and  very  often  be- 
fore that.  Few  of  us  succeeded  in  ever  get- 
ting our  clothes  off  our  backs.  It  was  a  case 
of  work,  work,  work,  and  generally  the  de- 
votion one  tried  to  throw  into  this  found 
little  appreciation.  At  first  some  of  us  re- 
sented this,  but  finally  we  came  to  realize  that 
the  strain  of  responsibility  upon  the  higher 
officers  was  such  that  nothing  else  could  be 
expected  from  them. 

I  found  myself  at  dawn  one  morning  look- 
ing for  a  Hun  battery  which  had  been  doing 
good  work  on  some  of  our  guns.   It  was  foggy 
and  so  I  was  obliged  to  stay  close  to  the 
189 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ground,  bnt  I  managed  to  get  across  the  Hun 
advance  positions  without  trouble  and  soon 
ran  into  their  ** Archie''  batteries.  That 
caused  my  pilot  to  go  up.  The  fog  between 
ourselves  and  the  ground  made  observation 
almost  impossible,  but  as  good  luck  would 
have  it  I  finally  located  the  battery  that  had 
done  the  damage.  I  communicated  with  one 
of  our  batteries,  which  had  the  location  of  the 
enemy  battery,  and  within  a  few  minutes  the 
Hun  had  stopped  firing.  I  returned  to  our 
aerodrome  after  that,  but  was  immediately 
sent  off  again  to  do  contact  control  with  some 
infantry  organizations  that  were  about  to 
advance.  I  worked  at  this  until  10 :30  in  the 
morning  and  then  returned  to  the  squadron. 
After  an  hour  or  so  I  started  on  volunteer 
reconnaissance.  We  were  to  find  some  of  our 
infantry  who  had  gotten  into  the  Hun  lines 
and  had  not  been  heard  from  since.  The  men 
had  been  lost  on  the  preceding  day  and  it  was 
a  question  whether  they  could  still  be  suc- 
cored. I  took  many  a  risk  scouting  up  and 
down  the  sectors  in  which  the  men  in  question 
had  been  lost,  and  finally  was  lucky  enough  to 
find  them. 

190 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

Upon  my  return  I  was  sent  on  patrol  dnty, 
looking  this  time  for  a  German  machine  gnn 
emplacement  which  had  made  itself  very 
mnch  disliked.  But  to  find  a  well-screened 
machine  gun  position  is  not  so  easy.  I  had 
considerable  trouble  seeing  anything  from 
the  elevation  I  was  flying  at  and  finally  de- 
scended to  about  seventy-five  feet.  Mean- 
while, my  plane  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  Huns  and  their  shells  were  bursting 
all  around  me.  It  was  very  difficult  under 
these  conditions  to  observe  anything,  but  I 
had  an  idea  where  the  machine  guns  were 
located.  I  went  over  the  ground  a  good  many 
times,  but  seemed  unable  to  get  the  exact 
position.  My  patrol  period  came  to  an  end 
before  I  had  found  the  machine  guns,  but  my 
relief,  to  whom  I  gave  whatever  information 
I  had  gathered,  discovered  that  the  guns  had 
been  placed  in  the  cellar  of  a  building  that 
had  been  razed  by  artillery  fire.  The  infor- 
mation was  flashed  back  to  a  battery,  and 
within  a  very  little  time  that  Hun  machine 
gun  emplacement  was  no  more. 

When  the  position  had  been  silenced,  the 
observer  took  a  photograph  of  the  scene  and 
13  191 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

upon  examination  it  was  fotind  that  eight 
machine  gnns  had  been  hidden  in  the  cellar. 
Since  each  of  these  guns  could  fire  as  many 
as  six  hundred  shots  a  minute  and  do  terrible 
havoc,  the  haul  had  been  a  good  one. 

At  3:30  that  afternoon  I  had  another  as- 
signment— contact  patrol  with  the  infantry. 
Everything  at  that  front  was  in  such  a  tur- 
moil with  shell  fire  and  smoke  that  I  was  able 
to  see  but  few  features  of  the  ground.  All 
buildings,  and  in  some  cases  whole  woods, 
had  completely  disappeared,  so  that  the 
aerial  observers  were  now  obliged  to  find  a 
new  set  of  landmarks.  The  buildings  and 
trees  which  in  the  past  had  served  as  valuable 
marks  to  us  were  gone.  We  began  to  realize 
that  in  future  we  would  have  to  be  guided  by 
the  things  which  heavy  artillery  could  not 
carry  off — ^the  hills,  for  instance. 

While  on  contact  patrol  I  took  messages 
until  seven  o  'clock  that  night,  when  I  was  re- 
lieved by  another  machine.  I  returned  to  the 
aerodrome,  made  a  general  report  and  then 
tried  to  eat  dinner,  but  the  excitement  of 
the  battle  had  left  my  nerves  in  such  a  con- 
dition that  I  could  not  swallow  a  morsel. 
192 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

At  8:30  I  was  given  an  order  to  make  a 
reconnaissance  flight  over  Hnnland.  This 
time  I  went  up  with  the  commanding  officer 
as  pilot.  We  flew  over  the  Hun  lines  at  a 
very  low  altitude  and  approached  a  little  vil- 
lage just  back  of  the  German  positions.  Near 
the  village  a  relief  party  of  Huns  was  just 
entering  the  conununication  trenches.  We 
were  so  low  that  I  could  take  them  under 
fire  with  the  machine  gun,  and  I  killed  about 
thirty. 

We  then  started  towards  the  place  for 
which  we  were  bound  in  quest  of  the  desired 
information.  The  trip  was  quite  successful 
and  before  long  we  were  sailing  over  No 
Man's  Land  on  our  return.  But  we  were  not 
home  yet.  Of  a  sudden  I  had  the  sensation 
of  having  been  hit  on  the  head  with  a  hammer. 
For  a  moment  I  lost  consciousness,  but 
seemed  to  regain  my  senses  immediately. 

When  I  was  again  in  control  of  myself,  I 
noticed  that  the  engine  had  stopped.  I  believe 
it  was  that  fact  which  caused  me  to  become 
conscious  again.  I  looked  around  at  my  pilot 
and  saw  that  his  face  was  covered  with  blood 
and  that  blood  had  also  run  over  his  goggles. 
.     193 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

My  first  thought  was  that  he  had  been  hit,  and 
though  he  was  sitting  upright  in  his  seat  and 
seemed  all  right,  I  made  frantic  signs  to  him 
to  start  the  engine.  This  he  did,  for  a  mo- 
ment later  the  propeller  began  to  spin.  I 
fell  back  into  my  seat  and  once  more  lost 
consciousness. 

When  next  I  regained  my  senses  I  noticed 
that  we  were  flying  at  a  great  height.  My 
eyes  fell  upon  a  large  wood  which  I  recog- 
nized as  one  lying  immediately  behind  our 
lines.  I  was  still  wondering  why  the  pilot's 
face  and  goggles  were  covered  with  blood  and 
was  making  an  effort  to  slide  back  to  him  to 
find  out  what  the  matter  was  when  he  mo- 
tioned me  not  to  stir  and  stopped  the  engine, 
starting  immediately  gliding  gently  towards 
the  ground. 

**I'll  take  you  down,'*  said  the  pilot. 

We  had  another  place  to  go  to  and  though 
I  was  feeling  very  badly,  I  thought  we  might 
be  able  to  finish  the  job. 

**No,  go  on,''  I  said. 

The  pilot  did  not  reply.  Instead,  he  held 
the  nose  of  the  machine  towards  the  ground. 

Soon  it  became  apparent  that  the  pilot  had 
194 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

reconsidered,  for  I  noticed  that  we  were 
swinging  back  over  Hunland.  As  we  neared 
the  ground  I  saw  that  some  of  our  men  were 
engaged  in  consolidating  parts  of  a  position 
they  had  taken  from  the  Huns. 

The  men  in  the  trenches  waved  their  hel- 
mets at  us,  and  just  then  a  volley  of  Hun 
bullets  came  up  through  the  planes,  making 
a  noise  like  a  snare  drum  as  they  spilt  the 
canvas.  After  that  we  headed  for  general 
headquaters  where,  after  making  my  re- 
port, I  once  more  relapsed  into  uncon-^ 
sciousness. 

When  next  I  was  conscious  I  found  myself 
in  the  field  dressing  station.  They  were 
bandaging  up  my  head,  and  somebody  told 
me  that  my  skull  had  been  fractured  by  a 
bullet.  I  was  then  given  the  anti-tetanus 
treatment  and  five  days  later  I  was  an  inmate 
of  a  hospital  on  the  French  coast,  the  institu- 
tion in  question  being  presided  over  by  the 
Duchess  of  Westminster. 

I  was  operated  upon  twice  and  each  time 

pieces  of  bone  had  to  be  removed.     I  was 

unconscious  the  greater  part  of  the  time. 

One  morning  I  awoke  in  another  place  and 

195 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

learned  upon  inquiry  that  I  was  in  a  hospital 
in  England  and  that  within  a  few  days  I 
would  have  to  undergo  another  operation. 

The  next  time  I  came  to  my  senses  I  had 
been  operated  upon,  but  found  that  I  could 
neither  hear,  see,  nor  talk.  I  was  very  weak, 
and  seemed  unable  to  think  rationally.  The 
slightest  effort  I  made  at  reasoning  caused 
some  of  the  factors  which  I  wished  to  bring 
into  relation  with  one  another  to  recede  from 
my  grasp.  With  my  senses  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing gone,  I  had  to  rely  entirely  upon  my  sense 
of  touch.  I  could  feel  the  nurses  doing  things 
around  my  bed,  but  aside  from  that  no  exter- 
nal impressions  came  to  me.  I  tried  to  make 
them  understand  what  I  wanted,  but  such  ef- 
forts were  unavailing.  I  supposed  nobody 
could  understand  the  feeble  movements  of  my 
hands.  Though  the  care  that  was  given  me 
seemed  to  be  a  matter  of  routine,  it  was, 
nevertheless,  ample. 

For  two  weeks  that  continued.  My  bed 
had  meanwhile  been  placed  against  the  wall 
in  a  ward  known  as  the  Turner  Ward.  I  felt 
that  windows  and  doors  had  been  opened 
for  the  purpose  of  airing  the  room.  Sud- 
196 


HELMET  WORN  BY  AUTHOR  WHEN 
WOUNDED  IN  THE  BATTLE  OF 
THE    SOMME,    JULY   2,    I916 


INSIDE      OUT,       SHOWING      WHERE 
PIECES   WENT   IN,    AND    BLOOD 


FROM  LEFT  TO  RIGHT:  BULLET  LODGED  IN  GASOLINE  TANK  AT  THIRTY- 
SIX  HUNDRED  FEET.'  SHRAPNEL  BALL  WHICH  WENT  THROUGH  CAR- 
BURETER AT  TWENTY  THOUSAND  FEET.  TAPPET  ROD  WHICH  BURST  AT 
SEVEN  THOUSAND  FEET.      BULLET  WHICH  STRUCK  AUTHOR  IN  SIDE 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

denly  a  door  near  me  was  shut  with  a  bang. 
I  did  not  hear  that  bang,  of  course,  but  I  felt 
the  vibrations  of  it,  which  caused  me  to  jump, 
and  as  I  did  this  I  saw  of  a  sudden  two  rows 
of  beds  on  either  side  of  the  room.  A  nurse 
was  coming  towards  me. 

The  same  instant  my  powers  of  speech  re- 
turned. 

As  I  looked  at  the  nurse  the  thought  came 
to  me  that  possibly  I  was  mistaken  in  all 
this.  I  had  groped  about  in  the  darkness  so 
long  that  I  was  now  doubting  the  very  things 
I  beheld. 

**Are  you  wearing  a  white  apron  and  a 
blue  dress!"  I  asked  the  nurse. 

Instead  of  answering  my  question,  the 
woman  ran  off,  and  I  heard  her  call  a  doctor. 

Within  thirty  minutes  I  was  once  more  on 
the  operating  table. 

When  the  effect  of  the  anesthetics  left  me, 
I  was  indeed  grateful  to  discover  that  the 
senses  which  had  deserted  me  for  a  while 
were  still  with  me.  I  could  see,  hear  and 
talk.  These  functions  were  still  impaired,  I 
discovered,  and  for  a  while  I  was  tortured 
by  the  thought  that  again  I  might  lapse  into 
197 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

my  former  helpless  position.  Gradually, 
however,  I  managed  to  get  them  under  better 
control,  and  before  long  I  felt  that  my 
physical  vigor  was  also  returning. 

While  at  the  hospital,  I  learned  a  great 
deal  of  onr  old  squadron.  Its  men  had  not 
fared  well.  *' Little"  Jowett,  I  learned,  had 
been  accompanied  by  a  corporal  gunner  when 
their  machine  was  brought  down  by  the  Huns. 
The  gunner  had  been  taken  prisoner. 

Jimmie,  a  Canadian  chap,  had  been 
wounded  and  it  was  believed  that  he  would 
be  permanently  crippled.  Randie  had  been 
killed.  Old  John  and  his  pilot.  Captain 
Burney,  two  of  the  best  men  living,  had  gone 
down.  **Fat"  Brennan,  another  Canadian, 
had  been  wounded.  Davis  had  suffered  shell 
shock  and  Bolitho  had  been  killed.  Six 
members  of  the  original  squad  were  still 
alive;  all  the  others  had  been  taken  on 
their  last  flight.  I  also  heard  that  the 
squadron  commander,  one  of  the  best  in  the 
world,  had  been  promoted  to  be  a  wing  com- 
mander. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  war  is  exactly  what 
Sherman  said  it  was.  You  see  a  pal  one  day 
198 


THE  BIG  PUSH 

and  the  next  day  he  is  either  dead  or  miss- 
ing. But  often  they  made  mistakes  in  the 
casualty  list.  Once  for  ten  months  I  was  left 
under  the  impression  that  a  good  friend  of 
mine  had  been  killed.  Really  he  had  been 
taken  prisoner  by  the  Huns.  I  met  him  in  a 
hotel  in  London,  and  had  some  trouble  mak- 
ing sure  that  he  was  really  the  man  I  knew. 
The  same  thing  happened  to  me.  My  name 
appeared  on  the  casualty  list  among  the 
missing  several  times.  Then  when  I  would 
show  up  at  some  aerodrome  everybody 
would  wonder  why  I  wasn't  dead.  The  worst 
of  it  was  that  my  old  mother  received  cables 
of  my  being  wounded  or  killed  on  five  dif- 
ferent occasions.  The  trouble  in  my  instance 
was  that  in  so  big  a  crowd  as  an  army  almost 
any  given  name  is  found  a  good  many  times ; 
and  then  generally  somebody  has  the  knack  of 
thinking  that  the  particular  Smith  or  Jones 
who  has  been  killed  is  the  one  he  knew. 
There  were  times  when  it  was  indeed  diffi- 
cult to  keep  track  of  one's  friends  because 
the  casualty  lists  were  so  large. 

I  received  the  best  of  care  in  the  English 
hospitals  and  in  two  weeks  after  my  last  op- 
199 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

eration  I  was  able  to  walk  around  quite  well. 
After  that  I  started  in  search  of  my  bag- 
gage, which  had  not  been  delivered  to  me.  Be- 
fore long  I  fonnd  what  was  left  of  it.  The 
thing  that  hurt  me  most  was  that  all  my 
good  Hun  souvenirs  had  been  taken,  and  I 
was  never  able  to  trace  one  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XV 


LEABNING  TO   FLY 


Upon  my  discharge  from  the  hospital,  I  re- 
ported to  the  general  in  charge  in  England, 
and  he,  after  reading  the  report  of  my  case, 
advised  me  not  to  fly  any  more.  It  took  con- 
siderable pleading  on  my  part  to  induce. the 
officer  to  retain  me  in  the  service.  But  after 
a  heart-to-heart  talk,  I  induced  him  to  let 
me  remaiQ  in  the  Flying  Service.  For  the 
time  being  I  was  to  be  sent  to  a  school  of 
instruction,  where  I  was  to  be  initiated  in 
the  art  of  operatiag  a  machine  myself.  The 
course  I  was  to  take  included  the  theories  of 
aviation,  construction  of  machine,  flight  rig- 
ging, operation,  and  general  fljdng  and  me- 
chanics as  applied  to  air  motors.  To  this  was 
added  meteorology  and  physics,  bombing, 
and  such  things  as  wire  splicing  and  the 
other  little  odds  and  ends  one  has  to  know 
in  order  to  keep  an  airplane  in  good  trim. 
201 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I   passed  4:he    examination    easily    enough. 

Having  had  some  experience  in  actual  fly- 
ing and  fighting  at  the  front,  I  was  later  re- 
quired to  do  some  lecturing  in  different 
classes.  Though  I  had  never  lectured  before 
and  had  some  difficulty  addressing  a  class,  I 
soon  managed  to  gain  some  proficiency  in 
this.  My  lectures  covered  the  work  I  had 
done  in  France,  such  as  observation  for  artil- 
lery, contact  patrol,  and  aerial  fighting. 
There  was  no  school  of  aerial  gunnery  on  the 
training  ground  in  question,  and  for  that  rea- 
son my  lectures  interested  the  students  very 
much. 

I  found  that  many  of  the  men  at  the  school 
were  of  my  turn  of  mind  when  I  was  in 
Canada.  Every  one  of  them  wanted  to 
get  to  the  front  and  fight,  and  gave  little 
thought  to  the  fact  that  before  a  man  can 
fight  he  must  be  instructed  and  trained.  Com- 
ing in  contact  with  this  tendency  as  an  in- 
structor I  now  began  to  realize  what  a  trial 
I  must  have  been  in  my  recruit  days. 

We  had  a  Scotchman  at  the  school  who  was 
of  the  regular  daredevil  variety.  Discipline 
meant  absolutely  nothing  to  him.  There  was 
202 


LEAENING  TO  FLY 

no  order  that  he  would  obey  and  the  result 
of  it  was  that  his  troubles  never  ended. 

We  had  been  quartered  in  an  old  English 
Hall.  The  buildings,  laid  out  on  the  lines  of 
a  U,  had  been  erected  many  centuries  ago,  I 
was  told,  and  the  lawn  in  the  yard  was  looked 
upon  as  something  highly  venerable  for  the 
reason  that  it  had  been  planted  by  the  orig- 
inal owner  of  the  place.  The  recruits,  who 
were  a  rather  tough  lot,  had  acquired  the 
habit  of  using  that  lawn  as  a  playground.  To 
this  the  present  owner  objected,  with  the  re- 
sult that  the  commanding  officer  had  a  sign 
put  up  prohibiting  trespass  on  the  lawn  under 
a  penalty  of  five  shillings  for  each  offense. 

McCray,  the  Scotchman  in  question,  was 
in  the  habit  of  rushing  across  this  lawn 
whenever  he  wished  to  reach  the  dining-room. 
He  had  done  this  one  morning  at  breakfast. 
The  commanding  officer  saw  him,  adminis- 
tered a  stinging  reprimand,  and  wanted  to 
collect  the  fine.  McCray  reached  into  his 
pockets  and  finding  that  he  had  nothing 
smaller  than  a  ten-shilling  note  gave  it  to 
the  commanding  officer  with  the  words: 

**Here's  ten  bob !  Take  it  all  and  I'll  walk 
203 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

across  it  once  more  after  I  Ve  had  ma'  break- 
fast, as  I  don't  want  to  be  late  for  the  first 
class,  sir." 

The  commanding  officer  warned  him,  bnt 
McCray  walked  across  the  lawn  all  the  same. 
There  is  no  donbt  that  the  lot  of  the  officer 
training  recmits  is  not  the  easiest  one  can 
imagine. 

After  passing  my  examination,  I  was  sent 
back  to  France  to  learn  practical  flying  with 
the  Eoyal  Naval  Air  Service  Sqnadron.  I 
was  gratified  to  find  that  it  did  not  take  me 
long  before  I  conld  handle  a  machine.  I  had 
gained  considerable  experience  in  flying  as  an 
observer.  The  machines  we  had  used  at  the 
front  had  a  donble  set  of  controls,  so  that 
observers  were  able  to  get  their  hand  in  grad- 
naUy.  These  machines  also  were  fitted  with 
machine  gnns  that  did  not  synchronize  with 
the  propeller,  and  although  the  observer  had 
to  do  most  of  the  fighting,  there  were  times 
when  the  pilot  had  to  operate  the  wireless.  In 
this  case  the  observer  was  entrusted  with 
steering  the  plane. 

I  learned  how  to  fly  on  a  Cauldron,  a  French 
type  of  machine  with  a  radial  engine  of  100 
204 


LEAENING  TO  FLY 

H.P.  and  a  warp  control.  After  an  hour's 
flight  with  an  instructor,  I  made  my  first 
solo  flight — that  is,  I  went  up  alone.  I 
found  that  I  had  little  trouble  handling  the 
machine,  and  made  a  good  landing. 

On  my  second  flight  I  tried  my  best  to  break 
the  squadron's  altitude  record,  which  was 
then  11,000  feet.  I  was  up  for  nearly  two 
hours,  and  reached  an  elevation  of  10,500 
feet — ^when  ^*bang!"  went  the  revolution 
counter. 

That  did  not  worry  me,  however.  The 
engine  showed  no  sign  of  having  been  im- 
paired and  kept  on  running.  I  decided  to 
climb  some  more. 

I  was  quite  a  ways  above  the  clouds,  in 
the  eternal  blue,  when  all  of  a  sudden  the 
engine  stopped.  Well,  that  made  a  lot  of 
difference.  There  are  no  places  in  the  air  to 
which  one  can  throw  an  anchor,  so  there  was 
nothing  that  could  prevent  my  coming  down 
suddenly. 

I  tried  to  locate  the  trouble,  but  found  that 
keeping  the  machine  on  an  even  keel  would 
occupy  me  entirely  without  giving  any  atten- 
tion to  the  motor.  I  began  to  dive.  It  so 
205 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTEE 

happens  that  a  Cauldron  has  no  gliding  angle. 
It  glides  as  gently  as  a  brick. 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  fall  through  the 
clonds,  which,  as  I  had  observed  going  up, 
were  then  abont  4,000  feet  above  the  ground. 
I  was  through  that  bed  of  dense  and  damp 
mists  before  I  knew  what  had  happened,  but 
I  had  sense  enough  to  keep  my  eyes  open  for 
the  aerodrome  or  some  other  convenient  spot 
on  which  to  land. 

Just  how  I  would  land  worried  me  consid- 
erably. I  wanted  to  do  as  little  damage  as 
possible.  There  were  hundreds  of  machines 
in  this  aerodrome.  Many  of  them  would  be 
standing  about  the  ground  and  others  might 
be  on  the  wing. 

Fortunately,  no  machines  came  into  my 
path.  I  took  a  curve  to  one  side  of  the  aero- 
drome and  made  ready  for  the  long  glide 
that  was  to  get  me  to  the  ground.  I  was  near- 
ing  the  ground  at  a  great  speed  when  I  no- 
ticed the  ** skipper''  waving  his  arms  like  a 
madman.  I  thought  that  he  wanted  me  to 
steer  away  from  some  machine  near  me  and 
in  my  haste  to  obey  his  orders  I  turned  right 
towards  the  officer.  That  caused  him  to  cease 
206 


LEAENING  TO  FLY 

shouting  and  waving  his  arms.  He  started 
to  run  across  the  aerodrome  as  fast  as  any- 
body ever  did  run,  with  me  and  my  faithful 
chariot  just  two  steps  behind  him.  The  way 
that  skipper  covered  territory  was  a  sight 
to  behold.  Well,  the  machine  lost  its  mo- 
mentum and  then  the  commanding  officer 
risked  coming  near  us. 

He  seemed  speechless.  All  he  could  do 
was  to  shake  a  wrathful  fist  at  me.  He 
was  red  in  the  face.  But  presently  speech 
came  to  him,  and  then  I  heard  what  he 
thought  of  me.  That  good  man  called  me 
every  name  in  the  calendar  and  a  few  others 
that  are  generally  included  in  the  category 
known  as  From  Hell  to  Breakfast.  He  did 
all  this  without  using  any  punctuation.  The 
skipper  was  an  old  salt  and  knew  exactly  how 
to  do  it. 

He  left  me  with  the  remark  that  I  would  be 
under  arrest  for  two  weeks — as  I  was.  But 
that  did  not  bother  me  any.  All  life  at  the 
front  and  behind  the  front  was  like  being  in 
jail  anyway.  We  had  come  to  the  point  where 
we  could  visit  the  girls  no  longer  and  even  in 
the  guardhouse  one  might  shake  poker  dice, 
^4  207 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTEB 

the  only  recreation  that  was  now  left  to 
ns. 

Bnt  playing  poker  with  French  cards  is 
not  so  simple.  The  Kings  and  Jacks  looked 
very  much  alike  and  are  identified  only  by 
the  initials  of  their  French  proper  nonns. 
For  that  reason  we  took  to  dice.  I  was  not 
the  only  one  in  that  guardhouse.  There  was 
a  Canadian  chap  named  Cameron.  He  was 
as  good-hearted  as  they  make  them.  Cam, 
as  we  called  him  for  short,  did  not  know  the 
value  of  money  at  all  and  certainly  loved  to 
gamble. 

The  two  weeks  under  arrest  passed  quickly 
enough  and  then  our  training  was  continued. 
Cam  and  I  started  out  one  morning  to  do 
solo  work.  The  weather  was  rather  muggy 
so  that  we  could  not  be  seen  from  the  ground 
after  we  had  gone  up  a  short  distance.  We 
made  up  our  mind  to  have  a  little  vacation 
that  day.  When  we  were  quite  sure  that  the 
skipper  could  not  tell  where  we  were,  we 
sailed  to  a  little  French  town  about  twenty 
miles  away.  We  knew  that  there  was  land- 
ing ground  near  by,  and  for  that  reason  we 
could  risk  it. 

208 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 

We  landed  all  right  but  began  to  doubt  if 
the  weather  would  stay  what  it  was.  If  it 
cleared  up  that  skipper  would  look  for  us  up 
in  the  blue  welkin,  and  then  there  would  be 
trouble.  But  we  had  some  money  in  our 
pockets  and  wanted  to  eat  a  regular  dinner. 
To  get  that  we  had  to  go  down  the  main  street 
of  the  town  to  find  a  restaurant. 

After  much  hunting  we  found  one.  We 
must  have  been  the  first  English  officers  that 
ever  ate  in  the  place,  to  judge  by  the  conduct 
of  the  proprietor  and  his  waitress.  The  girl 
made  it  her  business  to  pull  back  the  curtains 
at  the  window  so  that  the  people  passing 
by  could  see  the  distinguished  patrons  of  the 
restaurant.  The  meal  they  served  us  was 
good.  To  show  that  we  had  a  little  money  in 
our  pockets.  Cam  and  I  picked  up  two  ragged 
little  girls  and  took  them  to  a  store  where  we 
dressed  them  up  from  shoes  to  hat.  That 
made  quite  a  sensation.  The  idea  was  Cam's, 
and  he  was  certainly  pleased  with  himself 
that  it  had  been  carried  out. 

We  were  lucky  that  the  weather  had  re- 
mained hazy.  We  got  into  our  machines  and 
made  off,  but  took  great  care  that  on  ap- 
209 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

proaching  our  aerodrome  we  were  well  out  of 
sight.  The  skipper  was  waiting  for  us  on  the 
ground  and  seemed  quite  pleased  that  we  were 
such  good  students. 

Well,  poor  old  Cam  did  not  last  so  very 
much  longer.  He  went  to  the  front,  and 
before  he  left  he  told  me  that  he  had  a 
feeling  that  he  would  never  get  back.  I 
tried  my  best  to  get  that  notion  out  of  his 
head  but  did  not  succeed.  A  little  while  later 
I  saw  his  name  in  the  casualty  lists  under: 
Killed  in  Action.  How  the  Huns  got  him  in 
the  air  I  never  found  out.  He  had  been  over 
the  top  on  many  occasions  with  the  Canadians 
in  the  north  of  France  and  had  never  been 
touched,  and  he  had  proved  to  be  a  very  skil- 
ful pilot. 

Cameron,  by  the  way,  had  the  habit  of  call- 
ing the  French  'Spuddle  jumpers,"  on  account 
of  their  excitability.  At  mess  one  day  the 
skipper  asked  him  why  it  was  that  the  average 
Frenchman  became  excited  so  easily. 

Cameron  had  considerable  Irish  wit. 

**Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "they  all  love  their 
Paris,  and  no  doubt  it  is  a  wonderful  city, 
and  I  guess  there  is  not  a  Frenchman  in 
210 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 

France  who  has  not  seen  Paris.  They  get 
their  excitement  from  dodging  taxicabs  in 
Paris,  and  as  there  are  a  lot  of  puddles  in 
the  streets  of  Paris,  hence  the  name  of  'pud- 
dle jumpers,'  which  I  have  given  them." 

The  Cauldron  machine  in  which  I  contin- 
ued to  fly  got  on  my  nerves  after  a  while.  It 
was  very  hard  to  make  good  landings  with 
it.  One  day  the  skipper  told  me  that  I  was  to 
land  as  close  to  the  sheds  as  possible.  I  said 
that  I  would  do  so,  and,  after  having  had  a 
good  "flip''  up  in  the  air,  I  came  down  with 
the  skipper's  instructions  still  in  mind.  He 
was  watching  me.  I  was  going  to  make  a 
particularly  good  landing.  When  the  wheels 
of  the  bus  hit  the  ground  for  the  first  time, 
a  hard  bump  came  of  it,  and  the  fine  plan  I 
had  made  was  thrown  out  of  gear.  Close  by 
the  place  where  I  had  intended  to  land  stood 
another  machine.  The  bump  had  somewhat 
changed  the  'direction  of  my  plane,  and  since 
I  was  still  going  at  a  speed  of  about  thirty 
miles  an  hour  I  feared  that  I  would  crash  into 
the  other  machine. 

There  was  only  one  way  of  preventing  that ; 
I  would  have  to  go  up  again.  I  pulled  the 
211 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

throttle  of  tKe  motor  to  a  ninety-mile  clip,  to 
the  great  astonishment  of  the  skipper,  who 
had  fully  made  up  his  mind,  it  seems,  that  I 
was  going  to  break  up  everything.  He  grew 
wildly  excited,  but  I  did  not  mind  him.  In- 
stead I  opened  the  throttle  some  more  and 
then  ** zoomed''  over  the  machine  and  the  shed 
beyond. 

I  was  still  '* zooming"  when  I  saw  the  trees 
behind  the  shed ;  they  were  about  three  times 
as  high  as  the  shed  itself.  It  was  a  case  of 
either  getting  over  or  crashing  into  them. 
To  get  over  the  trees  I  thought  impossible. 
There  is  no  machine  that  would  rise  that 
much  in  the  short  distance  that  lay  between 
my  machine  and  the  tree  tops. 

The  only  thing  to  do  to  avoid  a  very  bad 
spill  was  to  have  more  speed.  I  opened  the 
throttle  still  more,  with  the  result  that  the 
machine  began  to  want  to  dive.  To  overcome 
that  I  pulled  her  nose  up,  increased  my  speed 
again  and  pulled  into  the  final  **zoom." 

As  I  did  this  I  got  a  glance  of  the  skipper 
and  several  of  the  instructors,  who  were  rush- 
ing around,  wildly  watching  what  I  was  do- 
ing.   I  just  got  over  the  tree  tops  by  a  hair. 
212 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 

Of  course  it  was  as  good  as  a  mile,  but  very 
dangerous.  After  all,  a  Hun  is  a  Hun  and 
always  does  funny  things.  Right  then  and 
there  I  promised  myself  a  month  in  the  guard- 
house, and  the  thought  put  a  rather  peculiar 
notion  into  my  head.  If  I  had  to  go  to  the 
guardhouse  for  a  month  I  wanted  to  give 
them  good  cause  for  it. 

Near  the  aerodrome  was  a  railroad  track 
and  just  then  a  train  was  coming  along  it.  It 
was  against  all  rules  and  regulations  to  chase 
trains  or  dive  at  engine  drivers.  But  I  went 
after  this  one  and  put  the  wind  of  my  pro- 
peller down  the  back  of  his  neck.  After  that 
I  raised  Cain  with  some  cattle  in  a  field 
nearby  and  then  I  started  back  for  the  aero- 
drome. 

The  skipper  had  been  waiting  for  me.  It 
was  getting  dark  and  I  was  the  only  man  who 
had  been  up  and  who  had  not  returned.  This 
time  my  landing  was  more  successful.  It 
was  a  landing  of  the  sort  the  skipper 
liked. 

I  rolled  right  up  to  the  shed,  switched  off, 
and  climbed  out.  I  stood  at  attention  ready 
to  take  my  medicine. 

213 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

But  I  nearly  dropped  in  my  tracks  when 
the  skipper  began  to  speak. 

**My  boy,"  he  began,  **yon  had  ns  all 
frightened  to  death.  We  thought  you  would 
never  get  over  those  trees.  You  made  the 
record  *zoom,'  but  our  hearts  were  up  in 
our  throats  all  the  time.  It  was  a  great 
piece  of  flying,  but  for  God's  sake  don't  ever 
do  it  again.  You  will  report  in  the  morning 
at  my  office.'' 

I  spent  a  very  uncomfortable  night,  being 
constantly  plagued  by  speculation  as  to  what 
the  skipper  wanted  me  for. 

Though  the  old  man  had  given  no  sign  of 
being  angry,  I  feared  that  he  had  calmed 
down  while  I  was  chasing  the  train  and  the 
cows,  but  had  not  forgotten. 

I  reported  in  an  uneasy  frame  of  mind. 
But  the  very  first  words  of  the  skipper 
showed  that  if  he  had  not  forgotten  he  at 
least  was  willing  to  overlook  things.  Pres- 
ently he  convinced  me  that  he  was  really 
kindly  disposed  towards  me.  I  was  to  go  to 
Paris  and  fly  some  machines  to  the  squadron. 
That  was  good  news.  I  would  be  able  to  live 
in  Paris  off  and  on,  and  right  there  I  made 
214 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 

np  my  mind  that  I  would  square  everything 
and  see  if  I  could  not  hold  that  job  for  a 
long  time. 

I  flew  three  machines  to  the  school  with- 
out anything  happening,  but  I  was  not  so 
lucky  with  the  fourth. 

Leaving  Paris  in  the  direction  of  our  aero- 
drome one  has  to  fly  over  a  forest  which 
offers  no  opportunities  at  all  for  landing. 
It  is  a  thirty-minute  trip  across  that  stretch 
of  ground,  and  I  was  in  the  habit  of  flying 
high  so  that  in  case  anything  should  happen 
to  my  machine  I  would  have  room  enough  to 
glide  down  into  a  field  outside  the  woods. 

I  was  over  that  forest  with  my  fourth  ma- 
chine when  of  a  sudden  my  engine  stopped. 
I  began  to  glide  and  looked  for  an  open  spot 
in  which  I  could  land.  Finally  my  eyes  fell 
on  what  I  was  looking  for. 

As  seen  from  above,  the  spot  I  had  selected 
appeared  to  be  a  lawn,  but  as  I  came  nearer 
to  it  I  began  to  see  hop  poles;  however,  I 
was  now  so  low  that  I  had  to  continue.  I 
landed  slap-bang  in  that  hop  field  and  the 
mess  I  made  of  those  little  poles  for  a  dis- 
tance of  about  one  hundred  feet  was  great. 
215 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

But  the  machine  was  a  mess  as  well.  The 
poles  had  gone  through  the  planes  and 
through  the  body— through  everything,  in 
fact.  A  couple  of  them  had  gone  through  my 
clothing.  I  pulled  them  out  and  then  I  climbed 
out  of  the  car  to  review  the  remains  of  what 
once  had  been  a  perfectly  good  aeroplane. 

Presently  the  owner  of  the  field  came  out 
with  a  gun.  He  wanted  to  know  what  I  was 
doing  in  his  field.  I  explained  to  him  that  I 
had  had  engine  trouble,  and  that  he  could 
make  out  a  bill  of  damages  then  and  there 
for  me  to  sign.  This  he  did.  The  man  then 
helped  me  get  the  machine  into  an  open  field, 
but  before  we  succeeded  in  doing  that  more 
damage  had  been  done  to  the  hops.  It  was  a 
day's  job  and  it  was  dark  before  we  got 
the  bus  out. 

After  that  I  had  to  telephone  my  command- 
ing officer  and  tell  him  of  the  accident,  and 
have  a  wrecking  lorry  sent  to  my  assistance. 
He  said  he  would  send  some  men  and  a 
wrecking  lorry. 

We  dismantled  the  bus,  loaded  her  on  the 
lorry  and  took  her  to  the  aerodrome. 

The  chances  that  I  would  lose  my  assign- 
216 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 

ment  in  Paris  seemed  very  good.  But  the 
skipper  was  nice  about  it.  Instead  of  firing* 
me  peremptorily  he  sent  me  back. 

On  the  next  trip  I  had  an  excitable  French 
sergeant,  who  insisted  that  I  should  take  him 
to  another  flying  school.  It  was  only  sixty 
miles  out  of  my  way  so  I  consented.  But  it 
seemed  like  waiting  for  Christmas  before  we 
arrived  at  the  aerodrome  at  about  5:30  in 
the  afternoon.  The  weather  was  raw,  and  I 
thought  I  would  warm  myself  while  the 
mechanicians  were  busy  filling  the  gasoline 
tanks  of  my  machine.  Before  I  was  ready  to 
start  it  was  too  dark.  I  would  have  to  stay 
over  night  in  that  camp,  and  since  I  could  find 
no  accommodations  there  I  decided  to  go  into 
a  little  town  nearby.  Some  of  the  French 
flying  men  were  staying  there. 

I  met  them.  They  had  never*  met  a  khaki 
flying  officer  before  and  insisted  upon  enter- 
taining me.  I  was  wined  and  dined  and  had 
a  splendid  time  all  around.  I  reached  the 
aerodrome  of  the  squadron  without  trouble, 
but  found  that  another  man  had  been  sent  to 
Paris  to  take  my  place.  I  was  to  fly  south  to 
another  school  with  a  bus.  On  returning  from 
217 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

the  southern  school  I  was  sent  to  Paris  to  fly 
a  French  machine  back  to  our  school.  I  met 
boys  at  the  school  who  pleased  me  very  much. 
I  received  my  railway  warrant  which  passed 

me  free   on  any  train  going  from  A 

to  Paris,  and  with  my  haversack  containing 
my  shaving  tackle  and  clean  collars  and  pa- 
jamas, I  started  off.  I  reached  Paris  about 
9  at  night  on  a  pitch  black  night,  which  was 
made  worse  by  a  nice,  heavy  rain ;  so  with  the 
idea  that  the  weather  would  not  be  fit  for  fly- 
ing the  next  morning,  I  started  out  to  see  the 
sights.  I  took  in  the  Follies  and  the  Alham- 
bra  and  then  went  to  my  hotel. 

I  did  not  put  in  a  call  to  be  awakened  at 
any  special  time,  feeling  sure  it  would  be 
raining  in  the  morning.    I  slept  like  a  log. 

At  9 :00  in  the  morning  I  was  rudely  torn 
from  my  dreams  and  presented  with  a  wire 
which  came  from  my  Squadron  commanding 
officer  stating  that  I  must  be  home  as  soon  as 
pogfiible.  I  looked  out  of  the  window  and 
though  the  rain  had  stopped,  the  sky  was 
heavy  and  the  clouds  were  low.  But  orders 
are  orders.  I  decided  to  fly  the  machine  back 
as  soon  as  possible. 

218 


i^EAENING  TO  FLY 

With  this  in  mind  I  called  np  the  French 
aircraft  park  and  told  the  officer  in  charge  to 
have  the  machine  ready  as  I  was  coming  right 
down  to  fly  it  away.  I  then  called  np  the 
Paris  Naval  station  to  send  a  car  down  to 
take  me  ont  to  the  park.  In  the  interval  of 
waiting  I  dressed,  had  breakfast,  and  when 
the  car  rolled  up  to  the  hotel  door  I  was 
ready. 

As  I  got  into  the  car  it  was  just  starting 
to  rain,  and  by  the  time  we  got  out  to  the 
flying  grounds  it  was  pouring  again.  On  ar- 
riving I  put  on  my  flying  clothes  and  asked 
where  my  machine  was.  I  was  taken  to  it 
and  on  examining  it  found  it  to  be  wet 
through. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  fly  away  that 
morning  at  all  costs,  so  as  soon  as  the  rain 
showed  signs  of  letting  up,  I  climbed  into  the 
bus,  found  a  couple  of  mechanics  and  started 
to  try  to  get  my  engine  working. 

The  French  way  of  starting  an  engine  is 
quite  different  from  ours.  Our  mechanics 
would  shout: 

** Switch  off,  petrol  on,  air  closed,  suck  in!" 
and  after  a  good  charge  of  gasoline  vapor 
219 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

had  been  sncked  in  by  turning  the  propeller 
by  hand,  they  wonld  shont: 

"Contact I"  wherenpon  the  pilot  applied 
the  switch. 

They  wonld  then  give  the  propeller  a  pnll 
over  nntil  they  felt  a  cylinder  on  compres- 
sion. Giving  the  propeller  a  smart  pull  now, 
the  cylinder  would  be  forced  over  compres- 
sion, and,  getting  the  required  spark,  the 
engine  would  start. 

But  the  French  had  ways  of  their  own, 
and  it  took  us  about  an  hour  to  start  the 
engine,  which  would  only  hit  on  about  half  its 
required  cylinders.  I  had  to  shut  down  and 
have  it  looked  over  and  after  another  hour 
we  got  it  started  again. 

The  motor  was  not  all  that  could  be  de- 
sired in  the  way  of  a  smooth  running  engine, 
but  I  decided  to  take  a  chance  on  it.  I  had 
mapped  out  the  course  I  was  going  to  take 
and  put  my  map  alongside  the  seat  where  it 
would  be  handy. 

I  taxied  to  the  far  end  of  the  aerodrome 

and  got   into  the  wind,   which  was   coming 

right  over  the  top  of  the  hangars,  and  took 

off,  when,  without  any  warning,  my  engine 

220 


LEAENING  TO  FLY 

stopped.  I  was  about  fifty  feet  off  the  ground. 
Not  being  a  balloon  I  had  to  come  down  and 
I  could  not  turn  as  I  hadn't  enough  height. 
There  was  nothing  to  it  but  land  on  top  of 
the  hangars,  and  I  did. 

The  roofs  were  made  of  canvas  and  I  flew 
for  a  center  beam  which  I  thought  would  bear 
the  weight  of  the  machine.  I  miscalculated, 
however,  and  landed  between  two  of  them. 
It  was  all  done  so  fast  that  I  did  not  have 
time  to  get  scared,  and  before  I  knew  it  I 
was  pinned  upside  down  underneath  the  ma- 
chine and  inside  the  hangar.  The  wings  of 
the  machine  had  been  left  on  top  and  I  came 
on  through  with  the  fussalage  of  the  machine, 
which  had  turned  while  coming  through  the 
roof  and  landed  on  its  back  with  me  under- 
neath. The  gang  of  workmen  saw  the  fall 
and  rushed  over,  rolled  the  machine  over  to 
its  natural  position  and  pulled  me  out.  I 
had  had  my  right  shoulder  bruised  some- 
what, but  it  did  not  hurt  very  much. 

I  reported  to  the  officer  in  charge,  with  the 
log  books  of  the  machine.  He  asked  me  if  I 
were  still  set  on  flying  away  and  on  my  an- 
swering **yes,"  he  gave  me  the  books  for  an- 
221 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

other  machine.  This  one  was  dry.  We  had 
no  trouble  starting  the  engine  and  I  was 
mighty  glad  when  I  found  myself  about  five 
thousand  feet  over  the  aerodrome. 

I  was  not  even  then  done  with  my  hard  luck, 
for,  on  getting  about  forty  miles  from  the 
'drome,  I  ran  into  a  rain  storm.  In  order  to 
dodge  it  I  had  to  fly  about  twenty  miles  in  a 
roundabout  way.  I  eventually  got  back  into 
my  proper  course,  but  I  had  gone  along  for 
only  an  hour,  when  I  was  driven  to  within  a 
hundred  feet  of  the  ground  by  fog.  I  could 
not  see  two  fields  ahead  of  me,  but  bent  upon 
getting  to  the  squadron  as  soon  as  I  could, 
I  kept  on  flying.  Soon  I  had  lost  my  way, 
so  that  I  had  to  steer  by  my  compass. 

I  wanted  to  reach  my  destination  as  quickly 
as  possible,  but  when  my  gasoline  ran  out  I 
had  to  land,  and  when  I  did  I  found  I  was 
fifty  miles  out  of  my  course.  My  compass 
had  not  been  swung  to  the  machine  and  was 
useless.  I  obtained  some  gasoline  and  oil  and 
as  soon  as  the  fog  lifted  I  got  under  way 
again,  after  being  tossed  around  by  the  bumps 
that  prevail  after  rains.  I  finally  came  in 
sight  of  the  naval  aerodrome.  I  was  mighty 
222 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 

thankful  the  trip  was  over,  as  my  right  shoul- 
der, which  seemed  to  be  getting  worse,  was 
beginning  to  hurt  badly,  and  I  was  thankful 
to  climb  on  board  a  good  old  train  and  start 
for  home. 

When  I  returned  from  this  eventful  trip  I 
was  sent  to  England  to  take  a  post-gradua- 
tion course  prior  to  going  on  active  service 
in  France.  I  reported  and  was  detailed  to  a 
squadron  in  the  north  of  England. 

There  I  met  old  Beaw,  a  chap  with  whom 
I  had  been  an  observer  in  the  first  squadron 
I  was  with  in  France.  A  Yank  named  Ham 
from  Toronto  and  a  few  others  made  up  the 
greatest  squadron  I  had  ever  been  in.  They 
were  always  happy  and  had  a  conunanding 
officer  who  was  one  of  the  boys  and  who  knew 
the  flying  game,  having  been  decorated  with 
the  French  Legion  of  Honor  and  English 
military  crosses.  He  was  an  Oxford  **blue'' 
and  a  member  of  a  famous  Oxford  eight — a 
gentleman  of  the  highest  order. 

Within  a  short  time  I  had  flown  every  war 
type  of  machine  they  had  in  the  place.     I 
perfected  myself  in   dropping  bombs   and 
learned  how  to  take  photographs. 
15  223 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

It  was  at  this  camp  that  I  took  my  first  solo 
flight  at  night.  I  had  been  up  at  night  before 
as  a  gunner  in  France,  and  had  some  idea 
what  it  was  like  to  fly  in  the  dark.  Three  of 
us  were  to  go  up  that  night ;  I  was  the  second. 

The  route  was  once  around  the  aerodrome, 
then  land  and  go  up  again  for  another  turn 
around  the  aerodrome. 

The  man  who  was  to  be  No.  1  had  no  trou- 
ble carrying  out  this  program.  The  flares 
were  up  and  so  arranged  as  to  show  the  wind 
direction. 

It  got  to  be  my  turn.  In  flying  at  night, 
and  reasonably  close  to  the  ground,  the  avi- 
ator can  make  out  woods,  roads,  lakes  and 
rivers,  and  the  lights  in  houses.  Going  up 
and  flying  is  a  simple  matter,  but  coming 
down  in  the  dark  is  quite  a  different  thing. 
The  last  twenty-five  feet  of  the  descent  is 
usually  made  with  nerves  on  edge.  It  is 
impossible  in  the  night  to  judge  distance  to 
the  ground  and  careful  judgment  is  needed  to 
avoid  a  pile-up. 

Night  flights  in  this  aerodrome  had  on  pre- 
vious occasions  resulted  in  the  *'crow  act  in 
the  hedge,"  as  we  call  it,  when  a  man  lands 
224 


LEAENING  TO  FLY 

his  machine  on  top  of  a  tree.  I  wished  to 
avoid  that,  if  possible,  and  surveyed  the  sur- 
roundings of  the  aerodrome  carefully  before 
I  went  up. 

The  first  spin  around  the  aerodrome  and 
the  first  landing  were  made  in  very  good 
form.  But  while  going  around  the  second 
time  my  engine  started  to  cut  out  and  I  came 
near  making  a  forced  landing  on  the  roof  of 
the  sheds. 

There  were  a  few  other  stunts  I  had  to  do 
and  then  I  was  given  my  graduation  certifi- 
cate and  my  wings.  That  meant  that  I  had 
to  take  down  my  flying  **0,"  which  stands 
for  observer. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

I  HAD  hoped  that  I  would  be  sent  to  France 
immediately,  but  instead  of  that  I  was  made 
an  instructor.  There  were  all  classes  of  men 
in  my  group.  Two  of  them  were  particularly 
interesting.  One  of  them  was  an  Irishman 
and  the  other  a  Scotchman.  The  men  of  the 
squadron  looked  upon  them  as  '*nuts." 

The  Irishman  had  been  flying  slow  buses 
and  when  put  on  a  fast  one  threatened  to 
hurt  himself.  However,  the  instructor  had 
patience  with  him,  as  he  was  a  decent  fellow. 
After  about  two  weeks  of  dual  instruction,  he 
was  sent  up  solo,  being  warned  to  be  careful 
and  to  put  on  proportionate  bank  and  rudder 
while  making  a  turn.  He  was  further  in- 
structed not  to  stay  up  any  longer  than 
twenty  minutes. 

The  Irishman  started  off  and  flew  straight- 
ways  from  the  aerodrome  towards  the  coast. 
226 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

The  instructor  waited  and  waited  and  after 
a  while  became  anxious.  The  twenty  minutes 
were  up  and  there  was  no  sign  of  the  Irish- 
man. There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  start 
after  him. 

But  Copper,  as  the  Irishman  was  known 
on  account  of  the  color  of  his  hair,  could  not 
be  found.  I  was  wondering  what  had  hap- 
pened to  Copper  when  an  orderly  rushed  into 
my  room  of  a  sudden  and  said  that  some- 
body wanted  to  speak  on  the  telephone  to  the 
instructor  who  had  gone  after  Copper.  I 
went  to  answer  the  telephone. 

** Hello,  who's  thisT'  I  shouted  into  the 
receiver. 

**This  is  the  commander  of  destroyer  so 
and  so,"  came  the  reply. 

**I  want  to  inform  you,''  he  went  on,  '"^that 
I  picked  up  a  man  out  at  sea,  flying  machine 
No.  2464- A.  I  found  him  ten  miles  out.  He 
says  he  is  known  in  the  camp  as  Copper." 

*'Is  he  hurt?"  I  asked. 

**No,  he's  thawing  out  down  in  the  engine 
room  and  drinking  rum.  You  had  better 
send  transportation  for  him  and  his  machine. 
Good-bye. '* 

227 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Meanwhile  Copper's  instructor  had  come 
down  and  I  told  him  what  had  happened.  We 
had  to  send  transportation  to  Copper,  and 
when  the  commander  of  the  destroyer  was 
finally  relieved  of  his  unexpected  company  he 
found  he  missed  Copper's  Irish  wit  very 
much. 

On  the  following  day  Copper  turned  up. 
His  instructor  gave  him  a  rather  warm  re- 
ception. 

*'What  in  the  name  of  blazes  were  you  try- 
ing out  at  sea,  anyway?"  he  asked. 

*'Well,"  said  Copper,  "once  I  got  up  I 
forgot  what  you  told  me,  and  when  I  tried  to 
turn  the  damn  thing  I  landed  in  the  sea." 

**What  did  you  go  out  to  sea  for?" 

"Well,"  remarked  Copper,  "I  thought 
that  in  case  I  did  come  down  it  would  be  a 
softer  place  to  land,  and  the  only  mistake  I 
made  was  that  I  went  out  too  far  before  try- 
ing to  turn." 

The  Scotchman,  in  trying  to  have  a  look 
at  his  native  land  while  up  in  the  air,  had 
his  first  landing  in  the  Scotch  hills  owing  to 
engine  failure.  He  called  us  up  on  the  tele- 
phone and  I  was  sent  out  to  get  his  machine. 
228 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

I  took  a  lorry,  knowing  the  funny  things  theses 
Huns  of  ours  hit,  having  been  one  myself, 
and  when  I  got  up  to  that  machine  it  was  just 
hanging  between  two  trees  which  kept  it  from 
falling  over  a  cliff. 

Two  hundred  feet  below  that  cliff  was  a 
waste  of  rocks,  and  yet  the  Scotchman  had  the 
nerve  to  tell  the  commanding  officer  that  he 
had  made  a  good  landing.  It  was  a  good 
landing,  all  right.  I  had  to  dismantle  the  bus^ 
and  carry  it  to  the  road  and  take  it  home  on 
the  lorry. 

Oh,  we  had  some  merry  times  in  that  squad- 
ron. One  of  the  instructors  used  to  go  out 
over  the  town  every  morning  and  loop  over  a 
monument  in  the  main  street.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  him  that  this  might  give  the  towns- 
people heart  failure ;  however,  he  had  to  have 
his  fun. 

Before  getting  off  on  this  particular  morn- 
ing, the  machine  of  the  instructor,  while  taxi- 
ing across  the  ground,  had  picked  up  consid- 
erable mud  and  grass  with  its  tail  skid.  The 
mud  stayed  there  all  right  and  while  the 
instructor  was  making  his  customary  loop  it 
fell  off,  crashed  through  the  skylight  of  a 
229 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

large  store  and  cansed  much  consternation. 
The  funny  part  of  it  was  that  the  owner  of 
the  store  thought  the  flyer  had  done  it  on 
purpose.  He  made  a  report  to  the  Govern- 
ment and  we  received  an  order  not  to  fly  over 
that  town  again  unless  it  was  absolutely 
necessary. 

Our  friend  Copper  did  honor  to  his  name 
one  day  by  coming  in  over  the  sheds  too  low 
and  putting  his  tail  skid  through  one  of  our 
skylights.  In  doing  that  he  broke  the  glass 
of  the  skylights  and  it  fell  on  two  buses  and 
cut  them  up  considerably.  Not  satisfied  with 
that,  Copper  took  away  the  flagpole,  carried 
off  the  flag,  and  smashed  his  prop  doing  it. 
Then  he  landed,  calmly  got  out  of  the  bus, 
picked  up  the  flag  and  flagpole,  and  walked  up 
to  an  orderly  whom  he  ordered  to  put  the 
things  back  in  place. 

Scottie  was  flying  along  the  railroad  one 
day,  chasing  the  Scotch  express,  which  was 
traveling  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  an  hour. 
He  was  trying  to  put  the  wind  up  the  back 
of  the  engineer  by  swooping  over  the 
engine.  That  was  all  right,  but  the  trouble 
was  that  Scottie  forgot  there  were  telegraph 
230 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

wires  on  the  other  side  of  the  track.  He  slam- 
banged  into  them  and  wrecked  this  line  of 
communication  for  three  days.  As  a  result 
of  this  fine  exploit  more  drastic  orders  -about 
low  flying  were  issued. 

After  that  we  went  further  away  from  the 
'drome  when  we  wanted  to  do  stunts.  Not 
far  from  the  aerodrome  were  a  number  of 
shooting  estates.  We  would  picket  men  with 
shotguns  on  the  edge  of  the  'drome  and  one 
of  us  would  fly  over  the  ground  and  woods  to 
scare  up  game,  which  consisted  for  the  greater 
part  of  pheasants,  partridges  and  hares.  The 
snipers  would  do  the  rest.  It  was  good  fun 
until  Robinson,  a  yoimg  pilot,  had  engine 
trouble  and  landed  in  the  middle  of  a  little 
wood  on  the  estate.  We  had  to  cut  a  road 
through  the  trees  to  get  the  machine  out.  It 
cost  the  Government  real  money  to  get  that 
machine  back. 

After  that  the  men  higher  up  put  their 
foot  down  and  stopped  our  little  hunt.  But 
being  full  of  spirit  the  boys  had  a  lot  of  fun 
anyway  crashing  around  in  the  atmosphere. 
Some  of  them  used  to  leave  camp  with  the 
statement  that  they  were  going  to  tea  some- 
231 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

where,  and  then  we  wonld  not  see  them  for 
two  days.  Ham  and  I  went  up  quite  a  num- 
ber of  times  to  see  a  friend  of  ours,  who  was 
running  a  little  Government  saw-mill  in  the 
hills.  That  boy  had  the  finest  and  most  expert 
taste  for  good  Scotch  ever  given  any  man. 
At  first  we  visited  him  occasionally  only,  then 
we  called  upon  him  once  a  day,  and  later  we 
saw  him  twice  a  day.  The  reason  for  our 
trips  into  the  hills  we  kept  secret  for  a  long 
while,  until  we  met  our  friend  in  town  one 
night.  We  were  careless  enough  to  introduce 
him  to  some  of  the  boys  and  in  the  course  of 
the  conversation  they  learned  why  we  were 
so  fond  of  the  Government  saw-mill. 

Before  long  it  was  difficult  to  find  an  air- 
plane in  the  aerodrome.  In  fact,  v/e  were 
seriously  considering  transferring  the  estab- 
lishment to  the  saw-mill.  Then  the  com- 
manding officer  was  permitted  to  share  our 
secret  and  another  diversion  of  ours  had  to 
be  abandoned. 

One  by  one  the  little  stunts  that  used  to 

make  life  on  the  training  aerodrome  so  very 

interesting  were  lopped  off.    A  general  order 

came  forbidding  any  pilot  to  do  stunts  at  ele- 

232 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

vations  less  than  2,000  feet.  But  we  made 
up  for  that  in  other  ways. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  when  I  was 
called  to  the  orderly  room  of  the  command- 
ing officer's  office.  I  was  told  that  I  was  to 
leave  next  morning  by  the  11:30  train  for 
Glasgow,  Scotland,  whence  I  would  proceed 
to  a  little  town  just  outside  and  receive  a  ma- 
chine of  the  type  known  as  BE2E.  I  was  to 
fly  that  machine  to  a  point  in  the  South  of 
England  and  was  to  take  with  me  on  my  trip 
a  chap  named  Atwood,  known  in  the  aero- 
drome by  everybody  as  '*At." 

We  caught  the  train,  changed  at  Edin- 
burgh, and  found  that  we  had  some  time  to 
spare  before  we  could  get  the  train  for  Glas- 
gow. The  two  of  us  decided  that  we  would 
have  a  look  at  the  town  and  we  did  so.  We 
found  the  place  quite  interesting  and  were 
walking  down  Princess  street  when  of  a  sud- 
den we  heard  a  roar,  and,  looking  up,  we  be- 
held an  aeroplane  known  as  a  Eumpty  type, 
flying  at  about  fifty  feet  above  the  ground.  It 
was  flying  over  the  street,  but  I  don't  know 
yet  what  the  couple  of  British  Huns  in  it  were 
trying  to  do.  The  machine  in  question  is 
233 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

large  and  slow  and  flies  steadily  enough.  At 
one  end  of  the  street  there  is  a  square  and  in 
that  square  stands  a  monument.  The  Rumpty 
** zoomed"  over  it  and  missed  its  top  by  a  few 
inches.  Then  it  went  on.  We  learned  after- 
wards that  the  machine  had  landed  some- 
where further  down  the  street.  Cold  shivers 
ran  down  my  back  while  I  was  looking  at  the 
foolhardy  stunts  of  the  men  in  the  machine, 
but  the  people  looking  on  were  impressed  only 
by  the  daring  of  these  bold  British  birdmen. 

Arriving  at  Glasgow  that  night  we  called 
up  the  aerodrome  and  let  the  commanding 
officer  know  that  we  had  arrived.  Next 
morning  an  automobile  called  for  us  and  we 
were  taken  to  the  aerodrome,  which  lies  near 
the  factory  where  these  machines  are  made. 

**At''  and  I  got  into  the  machine  we  were 
to  take  south,  though  neither  of  us  liked  the 
looks  of  the  weather.  A  storm  was  coming 
up,  but  rather  than  lose  time  we  decided  to 
go  over  the  tops  of  the  clouds. 

Before  we  had  gotten  beyond  the  clouds  we 

were  up  10,000  feet  and  it  certainly  was  cold 

up  there.    After  that  we  headed  for  the  hills 

in  the  south  and  we  had  to  go  up  a  little  more 

234 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

in  order  to  have  enough  gliding  room  in  case 
something  should  happen  to  the  machine.  I 
have  always  found  it  the  best  policy  to  fly 
as  high  as  possible  when  using  a  machine 
whose  knacks  and  tricks  I  am  not  familiar 
with.  The  prospect  of  landing  in  those  snow- 
covered  hills  did  not  appeal  to  us. 

I  froze  a  toe  and  part  of  my  nose,  but  aside 
from  that  nothing  happened.  The  machine 
was  safely  delivered  at  our  aerodrome.  We 
had  lunch  and  got  thawed  out,  and  then 
started  up  again  to  take  the  buses  on  to  their 
destination.  We  had  gone  quite  a  way  south 
when  more  trouble  came.  We  ran  into  a  fog. 
Ground  fogs  are  the  worst  enemy  of  the  avia- 
tor. In  addition  to  blotting  out  the  marks  by 
which  he  steers,  they  also  make  it  impossible 
for  him  to  find  suitable  landing  places  in  case 
of  necessity.  No  pilot  likes  to  fly  in  a  fog,  but 
when  he  has  to  he  generally  holds  close 
enough  to  the  ground  to  enable  him  to  see  at 
least  a  little. 

In  a  long  distance  flight  we  generally  go 
over  the  top  of  the  fog  and  then  find  our 
bearings  by  means  of  the  compass  and  the 
timing  of  the  speed  we  are  making. 
235 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Bnt  we  were  not  so  very  far  away  from 
the  point  at  which  we  were  to  land  the  ma- 
chines to  be  refilled  with  gas  and  oil,  and  for 
that  reason  going  to  the  top  of  the  fog  was 
ont  of  the  question.  I  hugged  the  ground 
as  closely  as  possible  and  in  so  doing 
made  as  a  first  discovery  that  there  are 
large  manufacturing  towns  somewhere  in 
the  middle  of  England.  I  was  going  along  at 
low  speed  when  suddenly  there  loomed  up 
before  me,  out  of  the  fog,  something  that 
caused  my  heart  to  stop  beating.  Right  in 
front  of  me  stood  a  large  and  tall  factory 
chimney. 

I  turned  to  the  right  to  avoid  it,  but  I  had 
hardly  done  that  when  I  was  close  to  another 
chimney,  which  was  directly  in  my  path. 
Once  more  I  turned.  But  before  I  had  gone 
very  far  I  was  up  against  another  chimney. 
I  turned  again;  another  chimney.  I  decided 
to  see  if  I  could  not  get  out  of  the  forest  of 
chimneys  by  going  in  the  other  direction,  but 
that  too  had  the  same  result — ^more  chimneys. 
For  the  next  and  longest  ten  minutes  I  ever 
experienced  I  described  circles  and  half-cir- 
cles around  chimneys  with  the  machine  now 
236 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

on  lier  nose,  then  on  her  tail,  when  not  on  her 
side.  I  finally  reached  what  I  thought  an 
open  place  and  then  decided  to  go  over  the 
top  of  the  chinmeys. 

One  of  my  reasons  for  staying  so  close  to 
the  ground  was  that  I  wanted  to  keep  in  sight 
of  the  railroad  track  which  had  served  as  my 
guide.  The  weather  was  so  thick  that  I  could 
not  see  two  fields  ahead  of  me. 

When  I  came  close  to  the  ground  again 
after  sailing  over  the  chimneys  I  found  that 
I  had  lost  the  railroads,  as  well  as  At  and  his 
bus;  for  I  afterwards  found  out  that  he  had 
landed  some  20  miles  behind  to  avoid  risks. 

There  was  no  use  in  going  on,  because,  for 
all  I  knew  I  might  run  into  more  chinmeya 
and  not  get  off  so  luckily  the  next  time. 
With  that  in  mind  I  decided  to  land  in  the 
first  open  field  I  came  to.  I  came  to  one  be- 
fore long  and  landed.  Soon  hundreds  of  peo- 
ple had  gathered  around  the  machine  and 
amused  themselves  by  writing  their  names  on 
its  planes  with  lead  pencil.  One  yokel  was 
enterprising  enough  to  cut  a  piece  out  of  a 
strut  with  his  knife.  I  had  a  hard  time  fight- 
ing these  souvenir  hunters,  and  I  am  sure  that 
237 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

they  would  have  carted  off  the  machine  bodily 
had  it  not  been  for  an  officer  of  the  law,  known 
in  England  as  Bobby,  who  came  and  helped 
me  stave  off  the  memento-hungry  mob. 

The  officers  told  me  that  there  was  an  aero- 
drome five  miles  down  the  road.  From  the 
minute  directions  he  gave  me  I  gathered  that 
I  would  be  able  to  make  those  five  miles  de- 
spite the  fog. 

I  had  some  trouble  getting  that  mob  out 
of  the  way,  but  succeeded  in  the  end.  I 
started  the  motor,  asked  some  of  the  men  to 
hold  the  machine  back  until  I  should  signal 
them  to  release  it,  and  then  climbed  in. 
I  taxied  to  the  other  side  of  the  field  to  get 
into  the  wind.  The  crowd  closed  in  behind 
me  and  when  I  turned  around  to  take  off,  the 
onlookers  scampered  to  the  sides  of  the  field. 
I  opened  up  the  throttle  and  was  just  getting 
off  the  ground  when  a  little  girl  rushed  out 
in  front  of  the  machine,  which  was  then  going 
about  sixty  miles  an  hour. 

The  only  way  to  save  the  girl's  life  was 

to  take  a  chance  on  my  own  neck.    Before  I 

knew  it  I  had  hurtled  over  the  little  girl, 

missing  her  by  a  few  inches  with  the  under 

238 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

carriage  of  the  machine.  I  was  going  at  such 
a  speed  that  had  she  been  hit  by  any  part 
of  the  machine  at  all  she  wonld  have  been 
killed.  In  getting  over  the  little  girl  I  lost  my 
flying  speed  and  a  bus  without  flying  speed  is 
like  so  much  lead.  The  result  was  that  I 
crashed  into  a  hedge,  smashed  my  prop  to 
bits,  and  then  the  machine  landed  on  its  nose 
in  the  next  field.  The  motor  was  making 
about  2,200  revolutions  a  minute,  and  to  make 
things  worse  the  gasoline  tanks  piled  upon  it 
and  were  ignited.  Within  a  second  the  entire 
machine  was  ablaze.  I  was  caught  in  some 
debris  of  the  machine  about  ten  feet  away 
from  the  part  that  was  burning.  But  I  had 
sense  enough  to  save  my  haversack,  in  which 
I  carried  my  shaving  tackle  and  my  pajamas. 
I  also  thought  of  my  stick.  Next  I  seized  the 
pyrene  syringe  and  hurried  over  to  the  fire, 
which  I  succeeded  in  putting  out.  By  that 
time  a  number  of  Home  Defense  Guards  had 
appeared  on  the  scene,  though  the  only  thing 
they  found  to  do  was  to  keep  the  people  out 
of  the  field. 

I  had  made  a  fine  mess  of  it. 

After  that  I  made  a  trip  to  the  nearest 
i6  239 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

telephone  three  miles  away  and  called  up  the 
wrecking  crew  of  the  aerodrome.  They  were 
to  come  up  and  salve  the  remains  of  a  per- 
fectly good  BE2E. 

This  was  my  first  real  crash  as  a  full- 
fledged  pilot. 

After  that  I  went  to  a  hotel,  had  a  bath, 
and  examined  myself  for  broken  parts.  But 
aside  from  a  good  shaking  up  I  had  suffered 
no  injury.  My  companion,  the  haversack, 
also  was  in  good  shape. 

Next  morning  the  commanding  officer  of 
the  aerodrome  sent  over  the  wrecking  lorry 
and  a  crew  of  students  to  pick  up  the  odds 
and  ends.  Some  of  the  students  were  Cana- 
dians and  when  later  we  met  again  at  the 
^drome  they  entertained  me  royally. 

I  could  not  leave  that  aerodrome  until  word 
had  come  from  the  commander  of  my  squad- 
ron that  I  was  to  be  relieved  and  sent  back. 
But  I  had  to  wait  a  couple  of  days  for  my 
orders,  being  meanwhile  billeted  in  a  hotel  in 
the  city.  I  put  in  my  free  time  hanging 
around  the  aerodrome  and  watching  the  boys 
tearing  through  the  air  learning  to  fly. 
While  doing  that  I  had  occasion  to  find  out 
240 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

that  I  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  done 
queer  things  on  his  first  solo  trips. 

One  of  the  boys  at  this  aerodrome — ^I  have 
forgotten  his  name — ^was  coming  over  a  build- 
ing about  70  feet  high.  On  one  corner  of  the 
building  there  was  a  small  tower  on  whose 
top  had  been  placed  a  weather  vane  resem- 
bling a  rooster.  The  apprentice  pilot  was 
sailing  a  little  too  low,  caught  the  rooster 
with  one  of  his  planes,  and  went  down  in  the 
court  behind  a  house  a  short  way  off,  complete 
with  rooster. 

The  machine  was  completely  demolished 
and  we  thought  that  the  man  had  surely  been 
killed.  The  aerodrome  ambulance  rushed  off 
to  the  scene  of  the  accident  as  fast  as  it 
could,  but  the  man  was  found  calmly  sitting 
on  the  wreck  of  his  machine  smoking  the  in- 
evitable cigarette.  There  was  a  smile  on  his 
face  as  he  pointed  to  the  rooster. 

"I  always  did  want  to  see  that  thing  at 
close  range,"  he  said,  **but  I  did  not  want 
to  bring  it  home  with  me." 

I  knew  several  of  the  boys  at  this  school 
and  found  that  they  were  learning  to  fly  E.  E. 
8's,  a  machine  that  has  the  reputation  of  be- 
241 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ing  very  tricky.  Its  main  fault  is  tHat  it  is 
hard  to  keep  from  spimiing,  much  to  the  dis- 
comfort of  the  budding  pilot. 

I  noticed  that  though  the  weather  was  bad 
and  cloudy,  it  being  a  raw  spring  day,  there 
was  no  let-up  in  the  work  of  this  aerodrome. 
Pilots  were  then  in  great  demand  in  France 
and  training  had  to  go  on  in  almost  any  kind 
of  weather. 

Venabels,  one  of  the  chaps  I  knew,  had 
just  been  transferred  from  the  squadron  I 
was  attached  to.  He  was  now  flying  an 
R.  E.  8  and  seemed  quite  proud  of  his  accom- 
plishment. He  was  going  to  fly  one  of  these 
machines  to-day,  he  said,  for  the  special  bene- 
fit of  the  wing  commander,  and  started  to 
do  so. 

He  left  the  ground  in  pretty  good  shape 
and  then  went  straight  up.  At  about  300  feet 
he  tried  to  turn  and  then  the  machine  went 
for  a  spinning  nose  dive.  Before  its  pilot 
could  right  it  again  it  had  hit  the  ground  and 
immediately  burst  into  flame.  Before  we 
could  get  to  the  man  he  had  been  burned  to 
death.  Accidents  will  happen,  of  course,  but 
it  made  me  sick  to  think  about  it,  for  he  was 
242 


STUNTS  AND  ACCIDENTS 

one  of  my  best  friends.    And  I  always  hate 
to  see  them  go  that  way. 

Next  morning  I  got  into  touch  with  my  com- 
manding officer  and  he  gave  me  orders  to  go 
to  another  factory  for  another  machine. 
This  time  I  had  a  bus  of  greater  power  and 
made  a  successful  trip.  After  signing  the 
machine  over  to  the  receiving  squadron  I 
reported  to  my  own  squadron  and  was  sent 
back  to  the  same  factory  to  deliver  another 
machine.  This  time  I  had  a  mechanic  with 
me.  In  the  afternoon  we  landed  at  a  squad- 
ron to  fill  our  tanks  and  get  some  food.  After 
that  we  resumed  our  journey.  We  had  flown 
about  an  hour  and  a  half  when  we  were  over- 
taken by  a  rain-storm.  It  was  getting  late 
and  for  that  reason  I  decided  to  land  and 
come  down  at  Melton  Mowbray,  the  world- 
famed  home  of  English  pork  pies  and  fox 
hunting.  "We  put  the  machine  away  for  the 
night  and  went  to  a  large  farmhouse  where 
we  were  received  with  open  arms  and  well 
entertained.  The  weather  being  bad,  the  next 
day  we  went  fox  hunting.  I  put  in  a  pleasant 
day  on  a  postage-stamp  saddle,  and  all  that 
night  I  was  sore  and  slept  hardly  at  all. 
243 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

It  was  very  windy  next  day  but  despite 
that  I  decided  to  finish  the  trip.  The  clouds 
were  low. 

As  we  started  off  I  broke  a  king  post  on  an 
aileron,  just  as  I  was  getting  off  the  ground. 
I  spliced  and  splinted  it  and  made  a  success- 
ful second  start,  reaching  my  destination 
about  3:00  in  the  afternoon,  after  a  very 
strenuous  trip. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AIB  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

Upon  reporting  to  the  park  commander,  I 
found  that  seven  of  us,  myself  included,  had 
been  detailed  for  overseas  duty,  which  meant 
France,  and  that  we  were  to  take  seven  ma- 
chines with  us. 

I  returned  to  the  squadron  and  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  the  seven  of  us  started.  We  took 
with  us  our  mascot,  a  fox  terrier  puppy  about 
six  weeks  old.  Pup  was  wrapped  up  in  muf- 
flers and  fur  helmet  and,  thus  equipped,  was 
a  passenger  in  the  wireless  box  in  Ham's 
bus. 

Though  the  weather  was  bad,  we  started 
out,  but  we  had  not  gone  very  far  before  we 
realized  that  we  would  have  to  fly  over  the 
tops  of  the  clouds  at  an  altitude  of  about 
12,000  feet. 

It  was  a  splendid  sight  to  see  the  seven 
machines,  six  with  two  men  and  one  with  two 
245 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

men  and  a  dog,  dodging  around  the  big  white 
peaks  of  the  upper  world. 

As  we  sped  along  we  came  to  a  hole  in 
the  clouds  and  peeping  down  I  spied  an  aero- 
drome I  knew  very  well.  It  occurred  to  me 
that  the  gang  would  like  to  be  taken  down 
there  to  feed  the  pup  and  fill  up  with  juice 
and  oil. 

I  went  down  in  a  nose  dive  and  the  others 
followed  suit. 

We  landed,  one  after  the  other,  took  our 
supplies  and  stretched  our  cramped  limbs, 
and,  after  feeding  the  dog  with  milk,  started 
up  again.  The  hole  in  the  clouds  had  not 
closed  up  meanwhile  so  we  went  through  it 
once  more. 

We  had  gone  about  an  hour  or  so  when  I 
noticed  that  my  pressure  valve  was  acting 
queerly.    Next  the  engine  stopped. 

I  began  to  use  the  hand  pump  to  keep  the 
motor  running  until  I  could  get  to  a  place 
where  I  could  see  the  ground.  But  that 
seemed  quite  impossible.  The  speed  of  the 
engine  was  now  so  low  that  I  was  falling 
anyway,  so  I  stopped  and  dived  downward 
through  thick  clouds  in  a  glorious  plunge  at 
246 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

about  140  miles  an  hour.  Then  I  righted  the 
machine,  picked  out  a  field  to  land  in,  and 
began  to  pump  again  like  mad  in  order  to 
keep  my  engine  running  until  I  landed.  It 
had  been  my  intention  to  fix  my  motor 
and  then  join  the  others.  I  was  hard  at  work 
when  suddenly  I  heard  above  me  the  whirr 
of  propellers,  and,  looking  up,  saw  that  the 
other  six  were  coming  down  also.  The  field 
was  none  too  large  and  I  swallowed  my  heart 
several  times,  as  they  came  in  to  land,  but 
they  all  got  down  safely. 

While  my  mechanician  was  busy  on  the 
valves,  I  consulted  my  maps  to  find  where 
we  were.  I  discovered  that  we  were  about 
ten  miles  from  an  aerodrome  and  told  the  boys 
that  they  had  better  start  for  it.  There  was 
a  tall  row  of  trees  on  the  windward  side  of 
the  field,  which  we  had  to  *'zoom"  on  getting 
off  the  field,  and  once  more  I  swallowed  my 
heart,  as  they  started  off,  but  no  accidents 
happened.  By  the  time  the  last  one  was  on 
his  wings  my  engine  was  running  again  and 
I  started  after  them. 

At  the  aerodrome  we  had  something  to  eat 
and  then  we  started  off  again,  though  it  had 
247 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

begun  to  snow.  The  falling  snow  prevented 
our  seeing  very  far  and  before  long  only  three 
of  us  were  together,  the  other  four  having  dis- 
appeared.   As  we  neared  F one  of  the 

boys  had  water  trouble  and,  on  landing,  he  hit 
a  tree  and  landed  on  the  ground  in  a  crash, 
nearly  killing  himself  and  his  mechanician. 
The  others  arrived  safely. 

Upon  reporting  at  the  *'War  House''  in 
London,  as  we  called  our  general  headquar- 
ters, we  were  given  two  days '  leave  and  then 
told  to  return  north  as  ferry  pilots.  The  work 
of  the  ferry  pilot  consists  of  delivering  ma- 
chines from  one  part  of  the  country  to  an- 
other, such  as  we  had  been  doing  for  a  short 
time. 

That  was  a  rude  shock  to  us.  We  had  bid 
our  friends  in  the  north  good-bye  under  the 
impression  that  we  would  immediately  go  to 
France,  and  now  we  were  to  spend  more 
time  trundling  machines  from  one  part  of  the 
country  to  another.  Well,  we  did  our  best 
to  drown  our  sorrows  during  these  two  days* 
leave.  Finally,  our  commanding  officer  gave 
us  a  little  dinner  to  help  us  get  over  our 
disappointment.  To  make  sure  that  none  of 
248 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

us  would  grieve  any  longer  from  not  being 
able  to  go  to  France  he  also  took  us  to  a 
show.  The  same  night,  flat  broke,  having  en- 
joyed ourselves,  we  caught  a  train  for  the 
north  and  arrived  at  our  aerodrome  in 
the  morning,  much  to  the  surprise  of  our 
friends. 

Four  days  later  we  received  orders  to  again 
report  at  the  **War  House,''  which  is  located 
in  the  **Big  Smoke.''  On  arriving  there  I 
met  an  old  Yankee  friend  of  mine  and  he 
greeted  me  with  the  remark : 

**How  do  you  like  the  *Big  Smoke,'  any- 
way!" 

Ever  since  then  I  have  associated  this  name 
with  London. 

That  man's  name,  by  the  way,  was  Libby. 
He  is  a  Texan,  and,  like  myself,  is  fond  of 
adventure.  I  had  been  able  once  to  do  Eibby 
a  favor.  Libby  had  made  up  his  mind  to  fight 
for  the  French,  or  at  least  drive  a  motor  truck 
for  them,  but  the  mechanical  examiners  were 
not  going  to  take  him.  I  went  to  the  com- 
manding oflScer  and  told  him  that  Libby, 
though  he  might  not  know  much  about  a 
motor  now,  was  sure  to  learn  quickly,  and 
249 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

that  I  wonld  see  to  it  that  he  made  himself  a 
useful  man. 

The  commanding  officer  thought  it  over  for 
a  long  time  and  finally  let  me  have  'Tliib/' 
He  proved  that  he  was  a  clever  chap  and  be- 
fore long  was  one  of  the  best  drivers.  When 
we  went  to  France  Libby  was  one  of  the  com- 
pany. We  had  no^heen  over  there  long 
when  he  fell  ill  with  pneumonia.  The  weather 
there  did  not  seem  to  agree  with  us  and ' '  Lib ' ' 
was  sent  back  to  England. 

When  he  recovered  he  was  sent  back 
to  France  with  a  repair  unit,  and,  when  next 
I  met  him,  he  told  me  he  was  trying  for  the 
Flying  Corps.  I  had  just  managed  to  get 
my  own  papers  for  the  same  corps  and  told 
Libby  how  to  go  about  it.  He  had  action  on 
his  petition  very  soon  and  became  an  officer 
on  probation  in  the  Flying  Corps  shortly 
after  I  did.  He  was  sent  to  a  squadron,  and 
during  his  period  of  observation  he  and  his 
pilot  shot  down  ten  Huns,  for  which  they 
each  received  the  military  cross.  He  was 
later  sent  back  to  England  to  become  a  pilot, 
went  back  to  France  and  shot  down  ten  other 
Huns.  Libby  was  some  fighter,  as  the  saying 
250 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

goes,  and  he  was  soon  made  a  captain;  I  felt 
proud  to  have  him  for  a  pal. 

At  the  **War  House"  I  was  informed  that 
I  had  been  assigned  to  a  scout  and  fighting 
squadron  doing  service  in  France.  I  would 
now  have  another  opportunity  to  fight  the 
Huns. 

Arriving  in  France  I  was  given  a  machine 
of  the  Spad  type.  I  began  to  fly  the  machine 
to  discover  its  moods  and  tricks,  and  then 
had  it  adjusted  to  suit  my  way  of  flying. 
My  first  turn  of  service  at  the  front  as  a 
pilot  consisted  of  patrol  work  for  three  days 
running.  It  was  an  uneventful  start.  On 
the  fourth  day  I  went  up  again  on  patrol 
to  20,000  feet.  I  was  looking  for  Huns  up 
there,  but  found  none.  Since  it  was  very  cold 
I  decided  to  go  down  a  way,  and  shut  off  my 
power. 

At  the  level  of  18,000  feet,  I  found  myself 
sweeping  along  a  very  large  peak  of  cloud. 
Intending  to  spoil  its  pretty  formation  I  dived 
into  it,  and,  coming  out  on  the  other  side, 
found  myself  alongside  of  a  Hun  plane  of 
the  Albatross  type.  I  had  no  intimation 
at  all  that  a  Hun  was  present  and  I  guess  he 
251 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

was  in  the  same  poisitioiL  I  suppose  he  was 
as  much  surprised  as  I  was  when  he  saw  me 
emerging  from  the  cloud.  That  he  was  sur- 
prised was  indicated  by  his  failure  to  open 
fire  upon  me  after  coming  alongside  of  him. 
Neither  of  us  could  shoot  at  the  other  for  the 
reason  that  the  guns  of  the  machines  we  were 
flying  were  fixed  to  the  machine  so  that  the 
machine  itself  has  to  be  pointed. 

We  were  so  close  together  that  this  could 
not  be  done  without  our  ramming  one  an- 
other, which  both  of  us  had  to  avoid  if  we 
did  not  wish  to  crash  to  the  earth  together. 

The  Hun  waved  at  me  and  I  waved  at  him. 

We  found  ourselves  in  a  very  peculiar 
situation.  I  was  so  close  to  him  that  I  could 
see  with  the  naked  eye  every  detail  of  his 
machine.  His  face  also  I  could  see  quite 
clearly,  even  to  the  wrinkles  around  his 
mouth. 

There  was  something  odd  in  our  position. 
I  had  to  smile  at  the  thought  that  we  were  so 
close  together  and  yet  dared  not  harm  one 
another.  The  Hun  also  smiled.  Then  I 
reached  down  to  feel  the  handle  on  my  pres- 
sure reservoir  to  make  sure  that  it  was  in  its 
252 


AIE  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

proper  place,  for  I  knew  that  one  of  us  would 
soon  have  to  make  a  break. 

I  had  never  before  met  a  Hun  at  sueh  close 
quarters  in  the  air  and  though  we  flew  par- 
allel to  one  another  for  only  a  few  minutes,  the 
time  seemed  like  a  week.  I  remembered  some 
of  the  tactics  told  me  by  some  of  the  older 
and  best  fighters  in  the  corps,  and  was  won- 
dering how  I  could  employ  them.  Finally  a 
thought  occurred  to  me.  Two  machines  flying 
at  the  same  height  are  not  necessarily  on  ex- 
actly the  same  level,  as  they  keep  going  up 
and  down  for  about  20  feet. 

I  was  flying  between  the  Hun  and  his  own 
lines  and  I  had  fuel  for  another  hour  and  a 
quarter  anyway.  I  wanted  to  make  sure  of 
this  bird,  but  decided  to  play  a  waiting  game. 
We  continued  our  flight  side  by  side. 

After  a  while,  however,  much  sooner  than 
I  expected,  the  Hun  began  to  get  restless  and 
started  to  manoeuvre  for  position;  like  my- 
self he  was  utilizing  the  veriest  fraction  of 
every  little  opportunity  in  his  endeavor  to 
out-manoeuvre  the  antagonist.  Finally,  the 
Hun  thought  he  had  gotten  the  lead. 

I  noticed  that  he  was  trying  to  side-slip, 
253 


*     THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

go  down  a  little,  evidently  for  the  purpose  of 
shooting  me  from  underneath,  but  not  far 
enough  for  me  to  get  a  dive  on  him.  I  was 
not  quite  sure  as  yet  that  such  was  really  his 
intention,  but  the  man  was  quick.  Before  I 
knew  what  had  happened  he  had  managed  to 
put  five  shots  into  my  machine,  but  all  of  them 
missed  me. 

I  manoeuvred  into  an  offensive  position  as 
quickly  as  I  could,  and  before  the  Hun  could 
fire  again  I  had  my  machine  gun  pelting  him. 
My  judgment  must  have  been  fairly  good. 

The  Hun  began  to  spin  earthward.  I  fol- 
lowed to  finish  him,  keeping  in  mind,  mean- 
while, that  it  is  an  old  game  in  flying  to  let 
the  other  man  think  you  are  hit.  This  bit  of 
strategy  will  often  give  an  opportunity  to  get 
into  a  position  that  will  give  you  the  drop  on 
your  antagonist.  The  ruse  is  also  sometimes 
used  to  get  out  of  a  fight  when  in  trouble  with 
gun  jam,  or  when  bothered  by  a  defective 
motor. 

I  discovered  soon  that  this  precaution  was 
not  necessary,  for  the  Hun  kept  spinning 
down  to  the  ground.    He  landed  with  a  crash. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  landed  two  fields 
254 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

away  from  the  wreck  and  ran  over  to  see  the 
kill  I  had  made. 

I  had  hit  the  Hun  about  fifty  times  and  had 
nearly  cut  off  both  his  legs  at  the  hips. 

There  was  nothing  left  in  the  line  of  sou- 
venirs, as  the  Tommies  had  gotten  to  the 
wreck  before  I  did.  I  carried  off  a  piece  of 
his  props  and  had  a  stick  made  of  it.  That 
night  we  had  a  celebration  over  the  first  Hun 
I  had  brought  down  behind  our  own  line  since 
I  became  a  pilot. 

Next  day  I  went  out  to  get  another  Hun 
to  add  to  my  collection.  I  was  in  the  act  of 
crossing  the  Hun  lines  when,  bang!  to  the 
right  of  me  came  a  thud,  and  my  engine 
stopped.  Revenge,  I  thought.  I  volplaned  to 
,  the  ground,  made  a  good  landing  in  a  field 
just  behind  our  lines,  and,  'phoning  up  the 
squad,  I  then  had  another  engine  brought  out 
to  replace  mine. 

On  my  way  to  the  squadron  I  witnessed  one 
of  the  greatest  air  fights  I  have  ever  seen. 
It  took  place  above  the  cemetery  of  P . 

Three  Huns  were  aloft  behind  their  own 
lines,  and  back  of  them  was  one  of  our  pa- 
troling  scouts. 
'7  255 


THE  FLYING'-FIGHTER 

The  Hun  does  not  believe  in  coming  over 
onr  lines  if  he  can  possibly  help  it,  and  gen- 
erally he  will  manoeuvre  so  that  any  engage- 
ment will  have  to  be  waged  over  German  ter- 
ritory. 

One  of  our  men  named  Price,  who  was  com- 
ing in  from  patrol,  was  pilot  of  the  scout, 
which  was  flying  at  the  same  height  as  the 
Hun  aircraft,  about  12,000  feet.  Price  was 
well  behind  the  Hun  lines  when  they  saw  him, 
and  all  three  of  them  made  for  him  at  once. 
I  happened  to  be  at  an  artillery  observation 
post,  which  I  had  to  pass  on  my  way  home, 
and  so  was  able  to  get  a  good  view  of  the 
combat. 

The  foremost  of  the  Huns  made  straight 
for  Price,  and  for  a  minute  it  looked  as  thougli 
he  intended  ramming  him.  The  combatants 
separated  again  and  began  to  fire  upon  one 
another,  as  the  tut-tut-tut  of  the  machine  guns 
told  me.  Of  a  sudden  one  Hun  volplaned, 
while  another  made  straight  for  Price.  I 
wondered  what  Price  would  do,  but  saw  the 
next  moment  that  he  had  ** zoomed"  over  the 
second  Hun  machine,  which  just  then  swooped 
down  upon  him.  While  Price  was  **zoom- 
256 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

ing,"  I  noticed  that  the  first  Hun  was  falling 
to  the  ground,  having  either  been  disabled  or 
killed  by  Price's  machine  gun. 

Yet  within  a  few  moments  the  second  Hun 
also  crashed  to  earth,  and  the  third  was  now 
making  for  home  as  fast  as  his  motor  would 
carry  him;  but  Price  chased  and  quickly 
caught  up  with  him.  It  was  an  exciting  race. 
Price  was  working  his  machine  gun  for  all 
the  thing  was  worth,  and  before  long  the  third 
Hun  went  down. 

Just  five  minutes  had  been  required  for 
the  fight.  When  I  met  Price  later  I  congrat- 
ulated him.  I  remember  wishing  him  all  the 
good  luck  a  fellow  could  have.  But  that  did 
not  help,  for  within  a  month  he,  too,  came 
down  in  a  heap. 

The  day  following  the  fight  I  went  out  on 
another  patrol,  and,  remembering  what  had 
happened  on  the  day  before,  I  decided  to  go 
up  high  before  sailing  over  into  Hunland. 
The  Huns  were  in  the  habit  of  being  espe- 
cially hard  on  our  fellows  after  such  an  ex- 
ploit as  Price's,  and  I  knew  that  I  would 
have  to  keep  all  of  my  wits  about  me  that 
day. 

257 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

I  went  up  to  about  15,000  feet  and  started 
across  the  lines. 

I  had  no  trouble  getting  across  Hunland. 
But  the  day  was  fairly  clear  and  the  Hun 
"Archies,"  I  soon  discovered,  were  working 
overtime.  The  amount  of  shrapnel  ammuni- 
tion they  spent  that  day  was  not  small.  I 
was  about  three  miles  behind  the  Hun  lines, 
when  right  ahead  of  me  exploded  a  **  woolly 
bear.'*  It  was  all  black  smoke,  with  a  heart 
of  fire  and  ragged  at  the  edges.  When  it 
burst  my  machine  started  to  do  a  cake-walk. 
It  seemed  to  be  out  x)f  control.  The  racing 
motor  caused  such  vibrations  that  I  was 
afraid  the  machine  would  fall  to  pieces.  I 
shut  off  power  quickly  and  headed  home- 
ward, landing  in  one  of  our  -advance  landing 
grounds. 

The  trouble  was  that  one  half  of  a  pro- 
peller blade  had  been  shot  away.  Otherwise 
the  machine  was  unhurt.  I  telephoned  for 
another  propeller  and  was  soon  up  in  the  air 
again. 

I  will  admit  that  I  had  the  greatest  respect 
for  the  Hun  "Archie"  batteries.  The 
"woolly  bear"  they  had  fired  at  me  was 
258 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

something  new,  and  it  certainly  did  damage 
enough  when  it  exploded  near  a  machine. 

Bnt  duty  is  duty. 

After  the  mechanics  had  attached  the  pro- 
peller I  went  up  again,  'but  shrunk  at  least 
six  inches  when  the  next  ** woolly  bear"  ex- 
ploded quite  close  to  me.  I  ducked  into  the 
cockpit,  although  it  is  self-evident  that  one  is 
no  safer  in  the  cockpit  than  outside.  When 
the  machine  crashes  to  the  ground  the  cockpit 
goes  along,  since  no  one  as  yet  has  devised 
any  means  of  anchoring  it  to  a  cloud.  Though 
the  bus  I  was  flying  was  a  fast  one,  that  Hun 
** Archie"  battery  did  most  creditable  work. 
I  must  say  that  much  for  the  Hun,  though  I 
hate  him  like  poison. 

The  Huns  were  good  shots,  even  at  the 
elevation  at  which  I  was  flying,  where  my 
machine  as  seen  from  the  ground  appeared 
no  larger  than  a  mosquito.  I  spent  a  very  ex- 
citing day.  The  fire  of  the  Hun  ** Archies" 
had  never  been  as  accurate  as  to-day  and 
those  '* woolly  bears"  seemed  to  have  us  all 
puzzled. 

For  all  that,  I  had  been  lucky.  When  I 
returned  to  the  aerodrome  it  was  to  learn 
259 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

that  ^*Pizzdoodle,"  an  old  Scotch  friend  of 
mine  and  as  fine  a  boy  as  ever  lived,  had  been 
brought  down. 

Capt.  Albert  Ball,  one  of  the  best  pilots 
in  the  corps  and  with  more  Hnns  to  his  credit 
than  any  one  else,  had  also  been  killed.  The 
same  fate  had  overtaken  a  number  of  others, 
many  of  whom  I  knew. 

I  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  that  night 
wondering  whether  it  would  be  my  turn  next. 
I  remember  looking  over  my  medals  and  a 
certain  peculiar  mascot  of  mine — a  Chinese 
doll.  Life  never  seemed  so  imcertain  nor  so 
short. 

I  had  to  wait  next  morning  for  quite  some 
time  before  I  received  orders  to  go  on 
patrol.  In  the  meantime  I  had  learned  that 
the  King  was  coming  to  inspect  our  squadron, 
and  I  wondered  whether  I  would  have  to  hie 
myself  into  the  blue  just  at  that  time  and  so  be 
obliged  to  miss  the  show.  But  luck  was  with 
me  this  time  and  I  stayed  below. 

Presently  the  King  drove  up  in  a  car.    We 

were  lined  up  and  were  looked  over  by  the 

royal  eye.    The  King  shook  hands  with  the 

commanding  officer,  chatted  with  him  for  a 

260 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

while,  and  then  walked  down  our  line.  We 
were  presented  to  him  one.  by  one,  and  the 
King  had  a  kind  word  and  a  smile  for  every 
man. 

After  the  King  had  addressed  the  man  next 
to  me,  the  wing  commander  told  him  that  I 
was  a  Yankee;  whereupon  the  King  shook 
hands  heartily  with  me  and  told  me  that  he 
was  proud  of  the  Americans  in  the  British 
service. 

He  asked  me  how  I  liked  flying,  and  I  told 
him  that  I  had  had  no  fair  chance  as  yet, 
having  been  shot  down  only  twice.  The  King 
laughed  heartily  and  remarked  that  he  had 
no  fear  for  me,  that  I  seemed  quite  able  to 
take  care  of  myself.  He  also  gave  it  as  his 
opinion  that  the  United  States  of  America 
would  soon  be  doing  fine  work  and  giving  a 
good  account  of  itself.  Then  he  questioned 
me  as  to  my  length  in  the  service,  and  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  we  might  meet  again. 

When  the  King  had  left  our  camp,  I  started 
out  on  patrol  with  a  feeling  that  something 
was  bound  to  happen  that  day.  I  was  rather 
blue,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  that  old 
** Archie,''  back  of  the  Hun  lines,  was  not 
261 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

going  to  get  me  this  time  if  I  could  possibly 
h^lp  it. 

I  went  up  to  20,000  feet,  and  soon  noticed* 
that  there  was  a  fight  under  way  across  the 
Hun  lines.  I  wanted  to  see  what  was  going 
on  and  made  for  the  spot,  but  I  had  not  gone 
very  far  before  old  ** woolly  bear''  picked  us 
up.  Soon  the  shells  were  bursting  all  around 
me. 

Before  long  a  gang  of  our  men  were  mak- 
ing for  the  scene  of  the  fight  and  this  gave 
the  Hun  ** Archies"  every. reason  for  sending 
up  their  * 'woolly  bears." 

The  seventh  shell  that  exploded  near  me 
sent  a  steel  fragment  into  my  carbureter.  Of 
a  sudden  my  motor  slowed  down,  and,  as 
usual,  I  had  visions  of  having  to  make  a 
forced  landing  in  Hunland. 

The  piece  of  the  shell  had  done  consider- 
able damage  to  the  sides  of  the  cockpit,  and 
for  a  moment  I  feared  that  it  had  smashed 
some  of  my  control.  But  that  fear  was  un- 
grounded, as  presently  I  discovered.  My 
controls  were  still  intact,  and  for  that  rea- 
son I  would  be  able  to  glide  to  the  ground.  I 
swung  my  machine  into  position  for  a  glide 
262 


SHOT   DOWN    FROM   TEN   THOUSAND   FEET 


A   BAD   LANDING   IN   A   HEAVY   GALE 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

towards  our  line,  and  before  very  long  I 
was  at  10,000  feet,  with  the  Hun  shells  keep- 
ing close  to  my  track.  Some  of  them  ex- 
ploded a  little  ahead  of  me,  which  is  always  a 
bad  sign  for  a  descending  man.  It  shows  that 
the  ** Archie''  gunners  have  a  good  line  on  the 
course  of  the  dive,  and  every  next  shell  may 
be  the  last  for  the  man  in  the  machine. 

It  was  bad  going  on  this  day.  The  **  woolly 
bears"  continued  to  stand  in  my  way,  and  I 
sped  through  their  fumes  nearly  all  the  way 
down.  To  this  day  I  do  not  understand  how 
I  managed  to  land,  as  I  finally  did,  in  a  con- 
venient field. 

But  forced  landings  keep  a  man's  nerves 
on  edge.  With  the  motor  dead  the  pilot  has 
lost  the  full  power  to  control  the  machine 
when  judgLQg  his  landing  place,  and  gener- 
ally he  reaches  the  ground  at  too  great  a 
speed  to  make  a  safe  landing. 

On  this  occasion  I  hit  the  ground  at  a  speed 
of  about  55  miles  per  hour,  and  had  the  mis- 
fortune of  being  thrown  to  one  side  by  a 
bump  on  the  ground  which  was  struck  by  one 
of  the  wheels.  The  next  instant  the  machine 
was  on  its  nose,  and  then  turned  over  on  its 
263 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

back,  and  more  or  less  smashed.  During 
the  somersault  I  was  stunned  by  being 
thrown  against  the  instrument  board.  The 
result  was  that  I  was  bruised  all  over, 
and  had  my  lip  cut,  my  eyes  blackened,  and  my 
chin  knocked  up  quite  badly.  I  was  unable  to 
get  out  of  the  wreckage,  and  still  had  to  fear 
that  the  gasoline,  which  was  spilling  from  the 
tanks,  would  ignite;  in  which  case  I  would 
have  met  the  end  which  a  pilot  fears  most. 

After  I  had  been  pulled  from  the  wreck, 
I  was  given  some  badly  needed  attention  by 
a  doctor  who  was  passing ;  then  I  went  to  the 
nearest  telephone  and  called  up  the  command- 
ing officer,  who  had  me  brought  to  the  aero- 
drome in  a  car.  He  also  sent  a  lorry  for  the 
remains  of  my  bus. 

That  night  we  had  our  wing  commander  for 
a  guest  at  dinner,  and  he  told  me  that  they 
were  going  to  send  me  back  to  England  for  a 
furlough.  I  wanted  to  stay,  but  he  thought 
that  it  was  better  that  I  should  rest  up  a  bit, 
saying  if  I  did  not  get  out  now  the  Huns 
would  soon  get  me  for  good.  Though  I  had 
raised  some  objection  to  being  returned  to 
England,  I  was  really  quite  willing  to  go.  I 
264 


AIR  BATTLES  OVER  THE  LINES 

have  yet  to  meet  the  flyer  who  wants  to  go 
back  in  the  air  after  he  has  had  the  necessary 
number  of  spills,  unless  he  is  out  of  his  mind 
or  has  imbibed  too  freely. 

The  cumulative  effect  of  accidents  in  fly- 
ing is  such  that  in  the  end  the  man  has  to  fight 
his  nerves  as  much  as  the  dangers  of  the  air 
and  the  Hun.  I  have  known  old  pilots  who 
had  been  on  active  duty  at  the  front  for 
months  and  months,  and  nothing  seemed  to 
matter  to  them  any  more.  For  all  that,  they 
were  gradually  falling  to  pieces.  They  were 
keeping  up  physically  well  enough,  but  their 
nerves  were  getting  away  from  them,  and  the 
moment  was  bound  to  come  when  they  would 
not  be  able  to  control  them  any  more. 

That  state  of  affairs  is  easily  understood 
when  one  stops  to  consider  that  nine  times  out 
of  ten  the  man  going  over  the  Hun  lines  is 
shelled.  On  almost  every  trip  he  may  have 
to  fight  some  **Heinie,"  as  we  call  the  Ger- 
man aviator.  This  means  that  the  man  aloft 
is  taking  chances  every  minute.  The  thing 
that  keeps  the  man  buoyed  up  is  the  thought 
that  he  has  become  indispensable  to  the 
men  fighting  on  the  ground.  Without  the 
265 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

airplane,  modern  military  control  would 
be  impossible.  The  men  in  the  front 
trenches  rely  entirely  upon  the  observer 
and  his  pilot  for  their  communication  during 
a  fight.  The  flyers  know  that,  of  course,  and 
for  that  reason  strain  every  nerve  to  be  of 
service  to  the  boys  in  the  trenches.  How 
valuable  the  services  of  the  flyer  are  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  often  they  succeed 
in  cutting  down  by  fifty  per  cent,  the  artil- 
lery fire  of  the  opponent  through  ** spotting'* 
the  friendly  artillery  to  the  batteries  that  are 
doing  the  harm 

I  got  my  route  orders  next  morning  and 
then  started  for  England.  Some  of  the  boys 
envied  me  that  I  could  go  back  to  old  Blighty, 
and  swore  that  the  next  time  they  went  out 
they  would  take  a  chance  on  being  brought 
down  by  the  Hun  ** Archies,"  who  used  the 
*  *  woolly  bear ' '  shells. 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  some  of  them 
were  as  good  as  their  word.  Within  a  short 
time  three  of  them  had  been  brought  down 
for  good,  and  two  others  had  to  land  on 
German  territory,  where  they  were  made  pris- 
oners of  war. 

266 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 


Upon  my  arrival  in  England  I  received 
a  week's  leave  of  absence  and  when  it  was 
over  I  was  detailed  to  a  good  squadron  near 
the  **Big  Smoke." 

My  new  duties  consisted  of  having  to  test 
and  ferry  to  other  squadrons  and  training 
camps  all  sorts  of  buses.  That  took  me  all 
over  England  and  in  some  cases  to  France. 

I  enjoyed  that  work  for  a  while,  but  soon 
discovered  that  it  was  very  strenuous.  I  was 
almost  constantly  in  the  air,  and  the  bad  sea- 
son was  now  on.  For  a  while  I  was  laid  up 
with  bronchial  pneumonia,  an  ailment  which 
has  frequently  bothered  me. 

I  made  an  attempt  to  be  transferred  to  a 
better  climate  as  instructor,  but  there  were 
no  openings  just  then. 

Three  weeks  after  my  discharge  from  the 
hospital  I  went  to  work  with  a  new  squad. 
267 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

My  present  detail  had  another  feature 
which  was  not  welcome  to  me.  I  was  ex- 
pected to  fly  every  type  of  machine  which 
was  then  being  manufactured,  and  these  types 
were  not  few  in  number.  The  first  day  in 
camp  one  of  the  pilots,  a  chap  by  name  of 
McGurrie,  had  engine  trouble  while  in  a 
scouting  machine,  and  injured  himself  in 
landing.  Since  just  then  I  was  flying  the  same 
type  of  machine  I  made  sure  that  my  motor 
was  0.  K.  before  leaving  the  ground.  But 
despite  that  I  had  the  same  sort  of  accident. 
A  few  days  later  one  of  the  fellows  got  his 
machine  on  its  back  while  up  in  the  air,  and 
had  a  hard  time  righting  it  again.  He  came 
near  landing  on  his  back,  which,  of  course, 
would  have  been  the  end  of  him. 

It  was  the  duty  of  the  men  in  the  squadron 
camps  near  London  to  participate  in  the 
manoeuvres  against  the  Zeppelin  raids.  Nine- 
tenths  of  the  alarms  were  false;  but  it  was 
impossible  to  tell  the  scares  from  tBe  real 
thing,  and  for  that  reason  we  would  go  up 
and  patrol  around  until  the  **all  clear''  signal 
came  out.  Usually  that  led  to  very  long 
flights,  which  was  a  hardship  in  many  cases, 
268 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

for  the  reason  that  we  used  to  go  up  in  what- 
ever clothing  we  happened  to  have  on  when 
the  alarm  came  in,  no  time  .being  taken  by  us 
to  dress.  When  the  alarm  signal  came,  we 
had  to  rush  for  our  machines,  jump  into  them, 
and  then  get  off  without  delay  of  any  sort. 
Some  of  the  alarms  came  at  night,  of  course, 
and  I  have  seen  men  climb  into  their  machines 
in  their  pajamas.  And  pajamas  are  not  quite 
the  thing  for  a  three  hours'  patrol  in  the  air. 
It  is  always  cold  up  there,  no  matter  what 
the  season  may  be,  and  the  speed  of  the  ma- 
chine intensifies  that  cold  many  times.  Many 
of  the  men  almost  froze  to  death,  and  often 
they  would  land  because  of  that  before  the 
**all  clear''  signal  came. 

I  went  up  once  to  an  elevation  of  14,500 
feet.  I  was  up  there  an  hour  and  a  half,  and, 
being  above  the  clouds,  had  no  idea  where  I 
was.  Of  a  sudden  my  revolution  counter 
broke  and  the  air  pressure  in  the  gasoline 
tanks  gave  out.  I  shut  off  the  engine  and 
started  towards  the  ground.  The  machine  I 
was  in  had  a  flying  speed  of  about  seventy 
miles  per  hour.  That  meant  that  I  would 
have  to  keep  up  good  speed  all  the  way  down. 
269 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

The  first  stratum  of  cloud  I  went  through 
was  so  wet  that  a  lot  of  it  froze  to  the  ma- 
chine. It  was  enormously  thick,  and  for  all 
I  knew  it  might  hang  only  a  few  hundred  feet 
above  the  ground.  There  was  the  chance 
that  I  would  emerge  from  it  and  find  myself 
over  the  very  center  of  London,  which  is  as 
poor  a  landing  field  as  anybody  would  care 
to  have.  As  I  was  going  down,  the  thought  of 
finding  a  convenient  landing  spot  plagued  my 
mind  constantly. 

I  had  plunged  down  5,000  feet,  so  far  as 
my  instrument  showed  me,  and  was  still  in 
that  cloud.  I  had  given  up  all  hope  of  ever 
getting  out  of  it  when  suddenly  I  dived  into 
clear  air  and  saw  the  ground.  The  machine 
I  was  flying  had  a  small  gliding  angle,  and  I 
would  have  to  find  a  landing  spot  quickly. 
Having  ascertained  now  that  I  was  not  go- 
ing to  drop  in  the  city  of  London,  I  was  much 
relieved,  but  I  had  some  trouble,  neverthe- 
less, in  discovering  a  reasonably  level  space. 
The  machine  was  plunging  towards  earth  at 
a  terrific  speed  and  I  had  little  time  to  pick  a 
convenient  spot.  Nothing  upon  which  my 
eyes  lit  seemed  to  serve  the  purpose.  But 
270 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

finally  I  found  an  open  space  and  decided 
to  settle  down  upon  it.  I  was  snre  that 
a  good  landing  could  be  made,  but  such  was 
not  the  case.  In  striking  the  ground  the 
machine  turned  turtle  and  was  rather  badly 
damaged. 

While  the  machine  was  turning  over,  I  had 
presence  of  mind  enough  to  throw  myself  out 
of  the  cockpit.  I  landed  on  my  head  but  suf- 
fered no  injury.  To  my  mind  came  then  a 
remark  made  to  me  by  the  doctor  of  the  hos- 
pital to  which  I  was  taken  after  I  had  been 
shot  in  the  head  in  France. 

"It  is  a  lucky  thing,''  said  the  doctor, 
**that  your  head  is  of  solid  ivory,  and  seven- 
teen inches  thick;  otherwise  you  would  have 
been  killed.'' 

There  is  no  doubt  that  had  it  not  been  for 
the  cast  iron  constitution  which  I  enjoyed 
prior  to  enlisting  I  would  have  died  long 
ago. 

Old  Ham  also  was  working  on  this  aero- 
drome. One  day  he  took  up  a  big  bus  for  a 
test  and  while  he  was  up  the  engine  gave  out. 
He  came  down  suddenly  and  landed  on  a 
railroad  track.  At  the  aerodrome  a  gang  of 
18  271 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

German  prisoners  were  employed  to  level  off 
the  ground  surface.  They  would  laugh  and 
jeer  every  time  there  was  a  crash.  They  did 
so  on  this  occasion ;  in  fact,  they  never  lost  a 
chance  to  let  us  know  that  their  enmity 
towards  us  was  real  enough. 

On  the  day  Ham  crashed  I  flew  down  the 
coast  with  a  bus  to  be  delivered  in  France.  I 
made  a  fine  trip,  but  on  getting  over  the 
station  at  which  I  was  to  land  I  shut  off 
power  and  started  to  spiral  down.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  wind  drifted  me  off,  and  when  I 
came  out  of  my  spiral,  at  the  height  of  about 
500  feet,  my  engine  would  not  start  again. 

I  tried  everything  possible  to  get  that 
motor  spinning,  but  it  was  no  use.  I  did  not 
have  height  enough  to  get  over  the  road,  on 
the  other  side  of  which  the  aerodrome  was 
located.  On  this  side  of  the  road  stood  some 
small  pine  trees  and  I  settled  down  upon 
them.  Luckily,  the  trees  were  small,  and 
their  tops  formed  a  gentle  cushion  for  me  to 
land  on.  The  propeller  of  the  machine  was 
slightly  damaged,  but  that  was  all. 

I  climbed  out  of  the  machine  with  my  bag, 
stick  and  log  books,  and  reported  at  the  head- 
272 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

quarters  of  the  aerodrome.  The  command- 
ing officer  happened  to  be  in. 

**I  have  brought  yon  down  a  DH5,  sir,"  I 
said. 

**Is  it  any  goodV^  he  inquired. 

**It's  perfectly  all  right  except  the  engine,  "^ 
I  answered. 

**  Where  is  itT'  asked  the  officer. 

' '  It 's  over  on  the  pine  trees, ' '  I  replied.  '  *  I 
cut  out  the  engine  when  I  was  away  up  and 
then  it  refused  to  start  again,  so  1  landed  the 
machine  in  the  trees. '* 

For  a  moment  the  officer  did  not  know  what 
to  say,  then  he  smiled  and  asked  me  if  I  were 
hurt  and  offered  me  a  cigarette.  After  that 
he  signed  my  log  book  and  gave  me  a  receipt 
for  the  machine.  I  had  lunch  with  him  and 
then  returned  to  my  squadron. 

Ten  days  later  I  had  another  weird  trip. 
I  was  up  in  the  air  a  good  many  thousand 
feet  and  the  fog  and  haze  were  so  thick  that 
I  could  see  very  little.  Above  me  there  was 
another  layer  of  cloud,  so  I  decided  to  get  to 
the  top  of  that  and  then  fly  by  compass  and 
speed. 

Before  I  reached  the  top  of  that  cloud 
273 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

stratum  I  had  ascended  to  13,000  feet.  Then 
I  headed  for  my  destination,  which  I  knew 
was  about  forty  minutes  distant,  if  I  kept  up 
ordinary  speed.  I  allowed  for  the  time  I  had 
taken  by  going  up  so  high,  and  after  forty 
minutes'  flight  on  the  level  I  started  to  de- 
scend. I  had  dived  a  good  ways  but  could  see 
no  ground.  The  thing  began  to  worry  me.  I 
looked  at  my  instrument,  and  that  showed  me 
that  I  had  gone  12,000  feet.  Since  I  had  gone 
up  to  13,000  feet  I  could  be  no  more  than 
1,000  feet  above  the  earth.  But  no  ground 
could  be  seen,  and  yet  when  I  had  gone  up 
the  weather  had  not  been  thick  enough  to 
make  it  impossible  for  a  man  to  see  that  far. 
But  the  weather  in  England  is  a  most  un- 
reliable and  treacherous  thing.  I  got  down* 
to  300  feet  and  then  the  first  thing  upon  which 
my  eyes  hit  was  a  building  which  in  another 
instant  I  recognized  as  the  town  hall   of 

A .     I  pulled  on  the  throttle,  but  the 

engine  did  not  respond.  At  that  height  there 
is  no  time  for  manoeuvring,  and  in  this  case 
there  was  also  no  room.  So  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  trust  to  God  and  then  let  the  bus 
have  her  way.  I  was  just  about  to  land  in  a 
274 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

street,  as  things  looked,  when  the  motor  sud- 
denly kicked  four  or  five  times  and  started 
off.  I  literally  swallowed  my  heart  and  sat 
back  in  the  seat,  glad  to  get  that  thing  out  in 
the  open  country.  I  noticed  that  in  some 
places  the  clouds  were  hanging  as  low  as 
fifty  feet  above  the  ground ;  a  young  gale  was 
coming  from  off  the  sea.  But  my.  troubles 
were  not  over  yet. 

There  is  a  regulation  which  restrains 
pilots  from  flying  over  certain  prohibited 
areas,  such  as  sites  occupied  by  munition 
plants  and  works  which  manufacture  high 
explosives.  There  are  so  many  of  these  pro- 
hibited areas  that  it  is  impossible  to  remem- 
ber them  all.  The  man  who  does  not  remem- 
ber them  is  likely  to  get  shot  at  by  the 
English  *  *  Archies, ' '  or  reprimanded  if  caught, 
and  I  had  to  find  an  aerodrome  as  soon  as 
possible  to  avoid  these,  which  I  did,  and  I 
was  very  thankful  after  I  was  once  more  on 
Mother  Earth.  The  same  fate  may  befall  the 
flyer  while  going  over  to  France.  "We  were 
required  to  leave  our  own  coast  at  an  eleva- 
tion of  5,000  feet  and  the  French  had  a  similar 
regulation. 

275 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

On  one  of  my  first  trips  to  France,  made  in 
company  with  eleven  others,  we  were  heading 
for  the  Channel  at  an  elevation  of  nine 
thousand  feet.  That  caused  the  English 
** Archies"  to  shell  us.  They  were  under  the 
impression  that  we  were  Huns.  But  we  made 
ourselves  known  by  coming  down  to  the  pre- 
scribed level. 

As  a  rule,  we  returned  to  England  from 
our  trips  to  France  by  the  Channel  boats. 
Eut  often  old  machines  had  to  be  flown  back 
from  the  parks  in  France,  and  in  that 
case  we  made  our  return  journey  in  the 
air. 

We  used  to  do  our  best  to  make  sure  that 
the  machines  were  in  proper  shape  before 
starting  on  a  trip.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  land 
in  the  middle  of  the  English  Channel  and 
float  around  for  an  hour  or  more  before  a 
patrol  boat  picks  you  up.  But  it  is  quite  a 
common  occurrence  to  make  forced  landings 
in  that  body  of  water.  The  number  of  ma- 
chines turned  out  in  England  increased  rap- 
idly, and  many  men  were  engaged  in  ferrying 
them  across  to  France.  Though  projwrtion- 
ately  accidents  were  few,  once  in  a  while  the 
276 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

ferry  flyers  and  their  machines  would  never 
be  heard  from  again. 

We  had  to  fly  when  ordered,  and  there  were 
times  when  it  made  no  difference  at  all  what 
sort  of  weather  prevailed.  That  depended 
somewhat  on  the  demand  for  machines  at  the 
front.  As  the  aviation  training  schools  in 
England  multiplied,  our  work  increased  by 
leaps  and  bounds. 

There  was  also  much  testing  to  do.  There 
were  days  on  which  the  testing  pilots,  of 
whom  I  was  one,  had  to  be  up  continually, 
and  to  our  commander  it  made  no  difference 
what  the  state  of  the  weather  was.  It  might 
rain  pitchforks  and  hammer  handles  and  still 
our  work  had  to  go  on.  We  used  to  take 
turns  at  testing  and  ferrying,  and  very  often 
faults  of  the  machine  that  had  not  developed 
during  the  test  would  show  themselves  while 
we  were  taking  it  to  its  destination.  Our 
measure  of  experience  was  getting  fuller 
every  day,  and  some  of  the  things  that  hap- 
pened to  us  were  queer  indeed ;  yet  it  was  all 
in  the  day's  work. 

While  I  was  on  ferry  work  between  Eng- 
land and  France  I  had  a  very  good  chance 
277 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

to  observe  what  the  naval  flyers  had  to  deal 
with.  In  the  first  place  I  could  see  the  bottom 
of  the  channel  the  biggest  part  of  the  way 
across.  From  an  altitude  of  several  thousand 
feet  the  bed  showed  up  in  brownish  grey,  ex- 
cept for  the  large  deep  holes,  which  appeared 
blue.  It  seemed  queer  that  one  should  be  able 
to  see  the  bottom  where  big  steamships  were 
traveling,  and  I  could  easily  understand  now 
how  the  naval  airmen  could  see  a  submarine 
when  submerged. 

This  particular  search  is  quite  interesting. 
The  patrols,  keeping  a  lookout  for  hostile 
craft  of  that  kind,  would  cruise  about  until 
they  had  spotted  one  of  the  **tin  fishes.'' 
Then  they  would  go  down  and  drop  aerial  tor- 
pedoes on  it.  If  they  saw  other  hostile  ships, 
they  would  call  up  the  naval  station  and  no- 
tify it.  A  destroyer  would  be  ordered  to  the 
scene,  and  then  the  naval  airmen  would  help 
with  the  bombing.  At  other  times  they  would 
watch  for  hostile  aerial  coast  patrols  and 
raiders  bound  for  various  points  in  France 
and  England.  The  naval  men  have  become 
so  efficient  that  it  is  very  seldom  that  enemy 
craft  of  any  kind,  either  on  water  or  in  the 
278 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

air,  go  on  reconnaissance  without  being 
fought  by  them.  In  many  instances  they  have 
been  able  to  inflict  heavy  losses  upon  the 
Huns. 

Besides  meeting  the  difficulties  of  flying 
over  water,  the  naval  men  have  to  train  them- 
selves to  land  on  water,  which  is  quite  a  tick- 
lish thing  to  do,  for  the  reason  that  for  the 
last  few  feet  there  is  nothing  to  show  what 
the  distance  between  the  machine  and  the 
water's  surface  is,  and  many  a  spill  occurs 
in  learning.  Water  is  as  hard  as  land  to  fall 
on,  and  not  soft,  as  many  seem  to  think.  It 
will  smash  a  plane  as  quickly  as  i*  it  had 
landed  on  the  groxmd. 

Men  who  fly  on  the  ground  cannot  neces- 
sarily fly  over  water.  Some  men  seem  to 
lose  their  sense  of  equilibrium  when  out  of 
sight  of  land,  and,  as  the  sea  is  such  a  tre- 
mendous body,  that  is  not  to  be  wondered  at. 
Conditions  vary  a  great  deal  over  water 
and  when  correcting  bumps  or  small  erratic 
air  currents  one  has  often  to  resort  to  his  in- 
clinometer and  other  instruments  to  keep 
right  side  up ;  for  the  fact  that  the  water  is 
level  and  of  the  same  color  when  one  looks 
279 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ahead,  has  a  disconcerting  effect  npon  the 
vision.  While  fl3dng  over  the  clouds,  which 
are  generally  of  more  level  formation  over 
the  water  than  they  are  over  land,  the  horizon 
is  harder  to  judge,  making  aerial  navigation 
very  difficult  at  times.  This  has  resulted  in 
the  use  of  several  mechanical  contrivances 
such  as  the  artificial  horizon,  already  in- 
stalled on  destroyers. 

On  a  beautiful  day  in  May  I  left  for  France 
— ^that  is  to  say,  it  was  a  beautiful  day  in 
England.  A  little  further  south  the  weather 
was  only  half  decent. 

Providing  the  bus  behaves  well  the  trip 
from  station  to  station  can  be  made  in  an 
hour  and  ten  minutes.  That  is  rather  a  long 
time  to  be  in  the  air  without  good  landing 
underneath,  and  for  that  reason  and  the  long 
delays  and  trouble  caused  by  forced  land- 
ings, we  used  to  take  a  careful  look  at  the 
weather  before  we  left.  On  this  occasion,  a 
squall  set  in  while  I  was  half  across  the 
Channel,  and  I  had  great  trouble  keeping  the 
pitching  bus  out  of  the  water. 

On  another  day  I  had  picked  a  new  route 
around  the  northern  part  of  London.  The 
280 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

weather  was  fine  and  I  had  gone  about  sixty 
miles  when  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that 
I  would  look  up  some  of  the  boys  at  H.,  who 
were  on  home  defense  work.  I  had  tea  with 
them ;  then,  at  about  five  o  'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, I  was  ready  to  continue  my  trip  to 
France.  I  said  good-bye  to  the  gang  and  got 
into  my  bus.  From  where  I  was  I  had  to  go 
due  south  and  across  the  Thames  Eiver. 
I  was  not  flying  very  high  when  on  looking 
into  the  cockpit,  I  noticed  that  gasoline  was 
spilling  on  the  floor.  I  was  unable  to  tell 
where  the  leak  was,  and  rather  than  run 
chances  I  turned  off  my  pressure.  The 
motor  stopped,  and,  as  it  did,  I  began  to 
look  around  for  a  field  in  which  I  could  land. 
I  managed  to  get  to  earth  all  right,  and  then 
walked  a  mile  to  borrow  a  wrench,  which  I 
needed  to  replace  the  pipe  that  feeds  the 
gasoline  into  the  motor.  Then  I  discovered 
that  the  tank  was  nearly  empty.  That  meant 
that  I  would  have  to  50  in  search  of  '* juice." 
I  managed  to  get  two  gallons,  and  since 
I  was  consuming  gas  at  the  rate  of  eight 
gallons  an  hour,  it  was  hardly  enough  to 
start  with.  But  I  had  to  get  away  soon,  be- 
281 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

cause  a  rain  storm  was  coming  np  and  I  did 
not  intend  being  caught  in  it  in  the  open 
field. 

I  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do  and  so  I  consulted 
my  maps  as  to  the  location  of  the  nearest 
aerodrome.  It  was  twenty  miles  away  and 
in  the  direction  of  my  flight.  My  two  gallons 
of  gasoline  might  take  me  there,  and  so  I 
started  off.  About  fifteen  miles  further  on 
my  engine  again  stopped,  this  time  for  want 
of  fuel.  Just  then  the  rain  storm  struck  me. 
I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  go  up  high 
enough  so  in  case  something  should  happen 
I  would  have  room  for  a  safe  landing.  But 
to  dive  in  a  rain  storm  is  a  very  trying  ex- 
perience. The  great  speed  of  the  machine 
causes  the  rain  drops  to  strike  hard,  giving 
one  the  sensation  that  a  thousand  needles 
are  being  driven  through  the  face.  The 
water  also  blurs  the  sight  as  it  dashes  against 
the  glass  of  the  goggles,  and  the  situation  is 
rendered  more  difficult  by  the  air  currents, 
which  during  rains  become  very  pronounced. 

I  had  spotted  the  aerodrome  I  wanted  to 
get  to  about  half  a  mile  ahead  of  me   and 
started  down  for  it ;  but  I  fell  into  so  many 
282 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

air  holes  and  was  bumped  about  so  much  by 
the  currents  that  I  began  to  fear  the  machine 
would  be  torn  to  pieces.  I  wished  to  land  in 
the  aerodrome,  but  feared  that  if  I  continued 
in  the  direction  I  was  going  I  would  end  in  a 
crash,  as  I  had  not  enough  height  to  make 
the  'drome.  It  seemed  best  to  attempt  land- 
ing in  a  field,  and  I  was  about  to  do  so  when 
some  of  the  men  from  the  aerodrome  came 
out  to  help  me. 

As  I  tried  to  settle  to  the  ground  the  men 
got  ready  to  catch  me  by  taking  hold  of  the 
wings,  which  is  the  usual  way  of  catching 
machines  as  they  land  in  an  aerodrome  in 
strong  gales  or  storms. 

But  for  some  reason  that  machine  would 
not  settle  down  but  made  straight  for  a 
fence.  I  tried  to  put  a  sort  of  brake  on  the 
bus  by  applying  pressure  on  the  tail  skid. 
This  is  the  only  way  one  can  stop  a  machine ; 
the  tail  is  light  and  the  pressure  is  not 
heavy  enough  to  pull  a  fast  machine  up  in  a 
short  space,  but  it  helped.  Two  men  seized 
a  plane  each  and  my  landing  would  have  been 
a  success  had  it  not  been  that  one  of  the  men 
stubbed  his  toe  and  let  go. 
283 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

The  part  of  the  machine  which  was  re- 
leased began  to  spin  about  the  part  that  the 
other  man  was  holding.  A  tire  flew  off  one 
of  the  wheels,  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as 
if  I  was  to  have  a  spill  after  all,  but  luck 
was  again  with  me  and  I  came  out  of  it 
safely. 

The  aerodrome  upon  which  I  had  landed 
was  only  in  the  course  of  construction,  and 
for  that  reason  I  had  to  telephone  to  another 
aerodrome  to  get  a  tire,  and  the  gasoline  and 
oil  I  needed.  Since  there  was  no  telephone 
at  the  'drome,  I  had  to  go  to  a  nearby  village 
to  attend  to  this  matter.  I  had  just  started 
off  when  I  heard  a  crash  from  the  direction 
of  the  aerodrome.  Looking  around  I  saw  an 
airplane  standing  on  its  nose.  I  rushed  back 
to  the  aerodrome  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  any 
help  to  the  poor  devil,  but  found  that  he  was 
dead.  We  had  to  cut  his  body  out  of  the 
wreckage.  Then  we  wrapped  it  up  in  a 
blanket.  The  poor  man  was  an  awful  sight. 
His  head  had  been  completely  crushed  in. 
Right  then  and  there  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
flying  after  all  was  a  poor  game.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  any  fool  could  fly,  but  that  it  took 
284 


BACK  TO  BLIGHTY 

a  wise  man  to  stay  on  the  ground  with  both 
feet. 

I  rested  np  that  night  and  on  the  next  day 
flew  that  bus  of  mine  to  France  and  delivered 
it  0.  K.  But  all  the  time  that  I  was  up  in 
the  air  I  thought  of  my  poor  dead  pal,  for  in 
the  Flying  Corps  we  are  all  pals. 

The  thought  of  quitting  the  flying  business 
had  come  to  me  before,  but  there  is  a  peculiar 
fascination  about  it.  Hairbreadth  escapes 
may  momentarily  sicken  a  man  of  the  sport, 
but  when  the  occasion  has  passed  he  longs 
to  be  up  again  in  the  blue. 

The  work  I  was  doing  had  ceased  to  inter- 
est me.  I  wished  myself  back  at  the  front, 
and  made  several  attempts  to  get  there.  But 
the  attack  of  gas  poisonhig  had  left  my  lungs 
in  very  poor  condition,  and  constant  exposure 
to  the  raw  wind  while  flying  did  not  seem  to 
make  them  better.  Still  I  wanted  to  be  back 
in  the  game  in  France,  or  as  Tommy  calls  the 
country,  'Ell.  On  the  other  hand,  I  had  the 
consolation  of  knowing  that  so  far  I  was  not 
** pushing  up  daisies" — another  expression  of 
Tommy's  when  he  wants  to  say  that  some  pal 
of  his  has  died.  Meanwhile,  I  had  made  up 
285 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

my  mind  sometime  to  get  a  bus  of  my  own 
and  then  fly  to  suit  myself. 

Testing  and  ferrying  airplanes  from  one 
part  of  the  world  to  the  other  had  come  to 
be  my  lot,  it  seemed.  The  air  had  now  lost 
most  of  its  thrills  for  me  and  the  only  sur- 
prise that  came  my  way  was  when  some  com- 
rade of  old  came  to  look  me  up. 

One  fine  afternoon  an  orderly  came  to  me 
with  the  information  that  there  was  some- 
body looking  for  me  at  the  gate.  To  my  sur- 
prise I  found  there  one  of  the  survivors  of 
the  old  Tenth  Canadian  Battalion,  and  they 
were  exceedingly  rare  now.  The  man's  name 
was  Maklin. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


OLD  TIMES  AND  NEW 


Maklin  and  I  had  lived  togetHer  in  the 
same  section  of  Canada,  and  he  was  one  of 
those  who  had  enlisted  in  the  original  three 
hundred  that  joined  at  Calgary.  For  a  long 
time  I  had  not  heard  of  him  and  I  had  given 
hiTn  up  for  dead.  The  last  news  I  had  of 
him  was  that  he  had  an  eye  shot  ont  and  had 
also  lost  part  of  his  nose  while  rescuing  his 
company  commander  from  the  barbed  wire 
field  in  front  of  the  trenches.  For  that 
Maklin  had  received  the  D.  C.  M. 

When  Maklin  called  he  had  with  him 
Corporal  Kerr,  owner  of  a  Victoria  Cross.  I 
took  the  two  men  into  my  quarters  and  there 
we  got  Kerr,  after  a  great  deal  of  urging,  to 
tell  how  he  earned  the  V.  C. 

**Well,  you  know,"  he  started  **we  were 
out  in  the  firing  trench  and  we  were  doing  our 
trick  at  sentry  one  morning  at  dawn.  I  was 
19  287 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

just  talking  over  with  a  pal  how  sick  we  were 
of  trench  life  and  how  disgusted  with  every- 
thing in  general.  Just  then  a  sniper  from 
the  other  side  picked  off  my  pal. 

**That  made  me  so  mad  that  I  got  over 
the  top  and  started  for  the  Hun  line. 

**I  got  over  without  being  hit  and  rushed 
straight  for  the  Hun  trenches,  hitting  the 
bottom  of  one  just  at  the  entrance  to  a  dug- 
out. 

**IhoIlereddown  to  them  to  comeup.  The 
first  two  or  three  showed  fight  and  I  stuck 
them  as  they  kept  coming  out. 

**I  kept  sticking  them  until  I  had  cleaned 
out  that  dugout.  Then  I  went  to  another  dug- 
out, and  as  they  came  out  I  made  them  disarm 
and  get  over  the  top  of  their  own  trenches 
into  No  Man's  Land. 

*'When  I  had  the  bunch  out  there  I  climbed 
after  them  and  started  for  our  trenches,  just 
in  time  to  meet  some  of  the  men  who  were 
coming  over  to  help  me. 

**I  had  MUed  twenty  Huns  and  had 
made  sixty-two  prisoners.  Hence  the  deco- 
ration." 

Kerr  would  not  talk  much  about  the  other 
288 


OLD  TIMES  AND  NEW 

stunts  he  had  done,  but  he  said  that  this  one 
was  nothing  at  all. 

We  passed  a  very  pleasant  afternoon  to- 
gether. Ham,  my  **side  kick,"  took  Maklin 
np  for  a  ride  while  I  showed  Kerr  the  dif- 
ferent machines.  Then  we  talked  trench  war- 
fare and  j&nally  drifted  back  to  the  experi- 
ences we  had  had  back  home. 

While  I  was  talking  to  Kerr  a  couple  of 
Grahame-White  machines  passed  overhead, 
and  I  explained  to  him  that  they  were  called 
Grahame-White  bullets  on  account  of  the 
speed  they  did  not  have.  These  machines 
were  then  being  used  for  training  purposes. 

To  show  Kerr  what  a  really  good  machine 
could  do,  I  got  into  a  small  scout  flier  of  the 
DH5  type  and  went  up.  But  my  demonstra- 
tion didn't  work  out.  On  taxiing  out  to  get 
the  wind,  the  under-carriage  broke  and  let 
the  bus  down  on  one  side.  So  I  went  back 
and  resumed  the  *' chin-chin"  with  Kerr  and 
the  others  boys.  That  evening  we  dined  to- 
gether and  talked  of  old  times. 

But  life  was  still  a  matter  of  testing  ma- 
chines and  delivering  them.  One  day  when 
the  weather  was  thick  I  was  scouting  around 
289 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

at  about  ten  thousand  feet.  I  noticed  that 
the  balloons  were  up  all  over  the  country, 
which  meant  that  more  weather  was  coming. 
The  balloons  in  question  are  sent  up  by  the 
London  weather  bureau  in  order  that  the 
general  direction  and  nature  of  the  wind  and 
weather  conditions  may  be  learned. 

When  I  saw  the  balloons  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  would  have  to  go  stiU  higher  to 
escape  the  storm,  but  I  had  not  climbed  very 
much  when  of  a  sudden  it  grew  dark  and 
more  sultry  than  ever.  There  was  lots  of 
clear  blue  beyond,  of  course,  and  I  decided 
to  make  for  that  as  fast  as  I  could.  I  was 
doing  very  nicely  when  a  black  object 
loomed  up  in  front  of  me.  It  was  one  of  the 
weather  bureau  balloons.  There  was  no  tell- 
ing what  might  happen  in  case  I  hit  the  thing, 
but  to  avoid  it  was  possible  only  if  I  made  a 
very  sharp  turn  to  the  side.  I  twisted  the 
machine  around  and  missed  the  balloon  by 
just  a  few  feet.  The  current  made  by  my 
propeller  caught  that  gas  bag,  however.  It 
began  to  swing  wildly,  and  for  a  moment  I 
feared  that  it  might  turn  upside  down.  The 
men  inside  the  car  hung  on  to  an  armful  of 
290 


OLD  TIMES  AND  NEW 

guy  ropes  for  dear  life.  While  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  me  to  help  the  men,  I 
made  a  flight  around  the  balloon.  But  the 
men  in  the  car  were  now  scared  more  than 
ever.  They  motioned  to  me  to  go  away.  I 
did  not  hear  what  they  said  but  I  guess  it 
must  have  been  quite  unprintable.  There  was 
nothing  else  to  do  but  to  plunge  into  that  haze 
again  and  continue  going  up. 

At  fourteen  thousand  feet  I  reached  the 
top  of  that  layer.  I  had  started  out  in  hot 
and  sultry  weather  and  for  that  reason  did 
not  have  on  my  heavy  clothing — ^just  a  dirty 
trench  coat.  The  machine  I  was  flying  at 
that  time  used  castor  oil  and  a  lot' of  it  was 
always  being  thrown  over  the  bus.  It  was 
cold  at  fourteen  thousand  feet,  and  I  was 
just  thinking  of  the  many  nicer  places  I  could 
be  in  when  the  engine  took  a  notion  to  stop. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  go  down  for 
the  time  being,  so  I  plunged  back  into  the 
haze  and  the  cloud  formation,  and  while  the 
machine  was  planing  down  I  did  my  best  to 
find  out  what  was  wrong  with  the  motor. 

I  was  still  within  the  sphere  of  the  balloons, 
so  between  keeping  my  plane  from  going 
291 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

down  on  its  tail,  examining  the  motor,  and 
keeping  an  eye  open  for  possible  balloons,  I 
was  kept  rather  busy.  I  was  within  one 
thousand  feet  of  the  ground,  according  to 
my  instrument,  and  still  the  engine  refused 
to  budge.  I  began  to  look  for  a  field  in 
which  I  could  land  and  discovered  the  pas- 
ture of  a  dairy  farm.  There  was  a  large 
herd  of  cattle  in  the  field  but  I  had  not  no- 
ticed them  on  landing.  When  I  saw  them 
they  were  making  for  the  fences  and  hedges 
in  all  directions  with  their  tails  up  in  the  air. 
The  trouble  was  that  the  said  fences  and 
hedges  were  all  a  little  too  high.  Three  or 
four  of  the  animals  were  beached  as  they 
reached  the  top  of  the  hedge  and  seemed  to 
find  it  impossible  to  move  either  way. 

The  old  farmer  to  whom  the  animals  be- 
longed did  not  appear  to  be  pleased.  He 
came  out  with  a  gun  in  his  hands,  and  for  a 
few  minutes  it  looked  as  if  he  intended  using 
that  barker  on  me  and  the  bus.  The  man  was 
red  in  the  face  and  mad  clean  through  when 
he  reached  mc. 

^*Ay  myte!  What  do  you  think  this  is — a 
bloomin*  'eathenish  picnic!"  he  shouted. 
292 


OLD  TIMES  AND  NEW 

**What  do  you  think  I'm  ruimin'  'ere — a 
blinkin'  circus!" 

I  explained  to  the  wrathful  farmer  that  I 
had  not  come  down  to  scare  his  cattle  on 
purpose,  teUing  him  that  my  engine  had 
broken  down  and  forced  me  to  land  in  his 
field. 

He  wanted  to  know  why  I  had  to  land  in 
his  field. 

I  explained  to  him  that  his  field  was  the 
only  one  big  enough  to  land  in. 

But  that  did  not  seem  to  improve  the 
temper  of  the  man  any.  He  informed  me 
that  he  was  going  to  claim  damages  for  three 
days'  milk  from  the  Government. 

At  first  I  did  not  know  what  he  meant  by 
three  days'  milk.  Then  he  informed  me  that 
he  was  sure  his  cows  would  not  give  any  milk 
for  that  many  days. 

From  the  looks  of  things  I  gathered  that 
he  was  not  far  wrong.  Some  of  the  cows 
were  still  struggling  to  get  over  the  fence  one 
way  or  the  other,  and  were  having  quite  a 
lively  time  of  it.  But  in  the  end  they  man- 
aged to  get  away. 

A  shot  of  brandy  from  the  flask  which  I 
293 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

always  carry  with  me  did  not  seem  to  make 
any  appeal  to  the  man.  I  offered  him  the 
flask  but  he  tamed  me  down.  Then,  in  order 
to  get  the  fellow  into  better  humor,  I  offered 
to  take  him  up  for  a  ride,  but  he  said  that  it 
was  not  for  him.  He  had  too  much  sense  to 
go  flying  in  a  **bloomin'  rattletrap  like  that." 

Thinking  that  I  might  yet  be  able  to  do 
the  man  a  favor  I  offered  to  take  up  his  wife, 
but  to  my  great  surprise  the  farmer  was 
madder  than  ever 

We  had  a  hard  verbal  set-to  right  then  and 
there,  and  in  the  course  of  the  argument  I 
called  the  farmer  a  pro-German.  This  out- 
raged him  to  such  an  extent  that  I  really  be- 
gan to  fear  the  man  was  going  mad. 

I  decided  to  try  a  little  strategy  on  him.  I 
took  out  my  notebook  with  a  very  serious 
mien  and  asked  for  his  name  and  address. 
That  helped.  Of  a  sudden  he  grew  very 
cordial  and  even  invited  me  to  come  into  the 
house  for  lunch.  Being  very  hungry  I  ac- 
cepted that  invitation.  After  lunch  I  repaired 
my  motor  and  then  got  the  old  fellow  to  hold 
down  the  tail  of  the  bus  while  I  started  the 
engine.  I  had  told  him  to  let  go  of  the  tail 
294 


OLD  TIMES  AND  NEW 

when  I  motioned,  and  to  take  the  sticks  from 
imder  the  wheels  when  I  waved  at  him  with 
my  hand. 

Everything  progressed  finely  until  the 
farmer  went  to  take  the  sticks  from  under 
the  wheels.  He  managed  to  get  one  of  them 
away,  and  he  was  just  starting  for  the  other 
side  when  the  machine  started  to  turn,  push- 
ing the  other  stick  out  of  the  way.  As  the 
machine  began  to  move  the  old  man  began 
to  run. 

Since  I  was  in  the  wind  I  opened  the 
throttle  and  started  after  the  farmer,  who 
was  then  going  at  a  rate  of  at  least  twenty 
miles  an  hour  and  was  gaining  speed  with 
every  second.  Just  as  I  got  up  off  the 
ground  I  took  another  look  at  the  old 
fellow  and  found  that  he  had  caught  his 
foot  on  something  or  other.  He  turned  a 
somersault  and  then  measured  the  remainder 
of  his  field  to  the  fence  by  rolling  all  over  him- 
self. I  turned  back  over  the  field  and  flew  in 
a  circle  to  see  if  he  was  hurt,  but  by  the  time 
I  got  over  him  he  was  on  his  feet  again,  shak- 
ing both  fists  at  me.  I  made  another  flight 
over  the  field,  wondering  what  made  that 
295 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

man  so  mad,  and  then  I  noticed  that  some- 
thing else  WAS  occupying  the  old  farmer. 
The  noise  of  the  motor  and  the  size  of  the 
hnge  bird  had  stampeded  the  cows  again. 
Since  I  did  not  want  to  torment  the  old  man 
any  more  than  was  necessary  I  made  off  for 
good,  though  I  should  have  liked  to  hear  what 
he  had  to  say  of  me  after  that.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  he  wished  I  would  break  my  neck 
or  do  something  similar,  but  I  finished  my 
trip  without  further  mishap. 

A  few  days  later  I  was  to  take  another 
machine  to  the  coast  for  delivery.  Three 
other  machines  were  in  the  group.  We  left 
about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  we 
were  near  our  destination  when  I  saw  a  flock 
of  Huns  coming  inland  from  the  sea. 

My  machine  had  a  gun,  but  I  had  no 
ammunition.  We  were  near  the  aerodrome 
to  which  we  were  to  take  the  machines  and 
dove  down  to  it  with  all  possible  speed  to  get 
ammunition.  The  other  men  had  also  seen 
the  Huns  and  were  coming  after  me  with  all 
possible  speed.  We  had  just  landed  in  the 
aerodrome  and  were  taxiing  our  machines 
to  the  shed,  when  a  Hun  bomb  struck  in  a 
296 


OLD  TIMES  AND  NEW 

nearby  field  and  exploded  with  a  tremendous 
crash. 

I  had  gone  to  see  the  conmaanding  officer 
to  get  ammunition  when  an  order  came  over 
the  telephone  that  no  machine  destined  for 
the  troops  in  France  should  go  up.  That 
order  had  hardly  been  received  when  another 
crash  came,  and  this  time  we  took  to  our  heels 
across  the  aerodrome.  We  were  near  the 
other  side  of  the  field  when  a  third  bomb 
crashed  to  the  ground  and  exploded  near  us ; 
so  we  ran  back  like  mad.  The  Huns  aloft 
seemed  to  have  it  in  for  us,  and  our  running 
about  merely  showed  them  that  their  bombs 
were  having  some  effect.  Then  somebody 
shouted : 

**Lie  down!  Lie  down!" 

The  order  was  accompanied  by  some  caus- 
tic remarks,  and  we  had  hardly  obeyed  it 
when  more  bombs  dropped  around  us. 

By  the  time  that  the  necessary  ammuni- 
tion had  been  issued  to  us  and  we  were  ready 
to  take  up  the  chase  of  the  Huns  they  were 
well  on  their  way  home.  This  raiding  party 
was  never  caught  by  the  patrols  in  Eng- 
land, though  those  in  France  spotted  them 
297 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

and   gave   battle,   bringing    down    two    of 
them. 

On  the  following  day  we  learned  that  a 
good  many  people  had  been  killed  in  Folke- 
stone, and  that  considerable  damage  had 
been  done  by  the  raiders.  The  result  of  onr 
experience  was  the  issuance  of  an  order  that 
in  future  all  machines  flying  in  England  or 
being  ferried  to  France  were  to  carry  ammu- 
nition. Most  of  the  boys  were  praying  for  a 
chance  to  get  even  with  the  Huns.  It  was 
the  first  time  that  Hun  flying  machines  had 
made  a  raid  upon  England  and  did  any  dam- 
age in  that  section. 


CHAPTER  XX 


MEETING  THE  KING 


Not  so  very  long  after  that  some  of  us 
got  the  chance  we  were  looking  for.  Early 
one  morning  the  alarm  came  that  the  Ger- 
man air  raiders  were  coming.  Those  of 
ns  who  had  machines  that  were  ready  went 
up  immediately,  and  others  went  up  in  ma- 
chines that  were  not  ready,  the  result  of  which 
was  three  rather  serious  accidents  in  which 
three  men  were  badly  smashed  up. 

But  a  few  of  us  got  up  and  cruised  about 
at  an  elevation  of  sixteen  thousand  feet.  In 
our  hurry  many  of  us  had  not  taken  the 
time  to  put  on  our  heavy  flying  clothing,  and 
these  men  came  near  freezing  to  death  in  that 
high  altitude.  We  had  cruised  around  for 
nearly  an  hour  and  a  quarter  when  I  saw  one 
of  our  machines  make  a  straight  line  for  the 
sea.  I  followed,  and  before  long  I  was  able 
to  count  twenty-two  Hun  machines  coming 
299 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

towards  us.  I  recognized  them  as  the  big 
bombers  used  by  the  Germans. 

The  Huns  were  a  little  to  one  side  of  us, 
so  that  I  and  the  other  man  who  had  flown 
towards  the  sea  were  on  their  flank.  The 
man  in  the  other  bus  was  old  Ham,  as  I 
learned  presently.  He  had  a  faster  machine 
than  I  had  and  was  endeavoring  to  get  above 
the  Hun  formation.  After  a  while  he  suc- 
ceeded, and  then  he  dived  through  the  Hun 
machines  and  separated  them.  After  that 
the  Huns  proceeded  in  groups  of  four  and 
five.  Meanwhile  I  had  overtaken  one  of  these 
groups  for  the  purpose  of  co-operating  with 
Ham. 

Within  a  minute  or  two  Ham  had  spotted 
a  Hun  whom  he  seemed  intent  upon  bringing 
down.  I  manoeuvred  into  position,  and  when 
I  thought  the  opportunity  was  good  I  took  a 
burst  at  the  enemy  with  my  machine  gun. 
The  Hun  started  to  drop  immediately,  and 
very  soon  I  had  lost  sight  of  him. 

Then  I  picked  out  another,  and  went  to 

work  on  him.    I  was  above  him  and  took  a 

dive  during  which  I  hoped  to  put  him  out  of 

action  with  my  gun.     But  as  I  plunged 

300 


MEETING  THE  KING 

towards  the  machine  I  found  that  I  had  run 
into  a  wasp's  nest ;  I  noticed  that  the  air  was 
full  of  blue  streaks  made  by  the  explosive 
bullets  which  the  Huns  used. 

I  decided  that  I  would  have  to  climb  again 
and  try  to  take  him  unaware.  I  manoeuvred 
upward  and  got  a  new  position,  but  before  I 
once  more  came  within  fairly  good  range  of 
the  Hun  machine  the  men  in  it  dropped 
all  their  bombs  into  the  marshes  along  the 
coast. 

It  was  necessary  to  act  quickly  if  this  ma- 
chine was  not  to  get  away.  The  bombs  had 
been  dropped  for  the  purpose  of  making  the 
aeroplane  lighter  and  enable  it  to  rise  more 
easily.  The  bombs  had  hardly  exploded  be- 
neath us  when  the  Hun  machine  started  up- 
ward in  a  spiral.  When  I  thought  the 
machine  was  in  proper  position  for  me  I 
dived  under  it  and  took  it  under  fire  from 
below.  I  had  not  spent  many  rounds  of  am- 
munition when  I  noticed  the  rear  gunner  in 
the  Him  machine  roll  to  one  side;  then  he 
disappeared  in  the  cockpit.  At  the  same  time 
the  machine  began  to  fall.  But  just  then  my 
gun  jammed  and  before  I  succeeded  in  get- 
301 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

ting  it  to  work  again  the  Hun  had  managed 
to  get  such  a  start  over  me  that  pursuit  was 
useless.  I  was  given  credit  for  helping  to 
bring  down  one  Hun  by  the  commanding 
officer  of  the  squadron,  as  some  one  else  had 
fought  him  at  a  lower  level. 

But  I  had  fared  much  better  than  a  good 
many  others.  One  poor  little  chap  who  had 
taken  to  the  air  in  a  "Sopwith  pup"  had 
gotten  under  the  tail  of  one  of  the  Hun  ma- 
chines. The  man  in  the  German  machine  got 
in  his  burst  first  and  our  poor  chap  got  his 
in  the  head  and  started  to  spin  earthward; 
I  watched  him  until  he  was  out  of  sight  in 
the  mist.  Afterwards  I  learned  that  he  had 
been  killed. 

But  the  Huns  got  their  punishment  before 
they  left  Allied  territory,  for  the  Naval 
gang  patrolling  the  coast  of  France  mixed 
in  with  them  on  their  return  home  and  brought 
three  of  them  down. 

The  jamming  of  my  gun  had  obliged  me 
to  quit  the  fight  early.  I  made  for  the 
nearest  aerodrome  in  the  hope  of  getting 
another  chance  at  the  Huns  before  they 
escaped,  but  the  all  clear  signal  came  before 
302 


MEETING  THE  KING 

I  got  off  the  ground.  As  the  boys  came  in 
we  heard  very  interesting  accounts  of  the 
fight,  but  Ham  was  the  only  man  who  could 
be  sure  of  his  Hun.  His  observer,  another 
man  who  was  later  killed,  was  slightly 
wounded.  Ham's  airplane  had  about  twenty 
hits  to  my  seven. 

On  the  day  following  the  big  raid  I  was  sent 
to  the  coast  with  a  machine  and  returned 
early  that  afternoon.  Another  plane  had  to 
be  taken  to  an  aerodrome.  I  had  gotten  to 
the  level  of  seven  thousand  feet,  and  every- 
thing was  going  along  smoothly  at  a  speed 
of  about  one  hundred  miles  an  hour,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  the  engine  burst,  and  I  thought 
for  a  moment  I  was  hit  by  ** Archie."  The 
same  instant  castor  oil  flew  all  over  me, 
and  so  completely  covered  my  goggles 
that  I  could  not  see.  As  I  felt  about  my  face 
I  noticed  that  something  was  hanging  in  front 
of  me.  The  next  thing  I  came  to  understand, 
after  the  first  shock  was  over,  was  that  the 
motor  was  no  longer  running.  My  feet  had 
been  forced  off  the  rudder  control.  I  groped 
around  to  find  the  stick  but  could  not  find  it 
for  a  few  seconds  until  I  had  gotten  some  of 
20  303 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

the  oil  out  of  my  eyes.  An  examination  of 
the  various  controls  showed  that  the  ma- 
chine was  totally  unmanageable.  I  was  fall- 
ing— falling  in  such  a  manner  that  earth  and 
sky  seemed  all  mixed  up.  The  machine 
passed  from  one  loop  into  another,  skidded 
sideways,  then  sailed  on  its  tail  for  a  sec- 
ond, righted  itself  again,  and  kept  plunging 
earthward  faster  with  every  second.  To  my 
own  surprise  my  presence  of  mind  did  not 
desert  me.  One  moment  I  seemed  to  be  sail- 
ing towards  the  sky,  while  the  next  left  no 
doubt  at  all  that  I  was  rushing  towards  the 
ground. 

Presently  the  machine  began  to  swirl 
around  its  own  axis  while  describing  the 
regular  spirals  or  spins. 

I  wondered  how  soon  it  would  be  over! 

Another  moment  or  two  and  then  the  crash 
would  come. 

I  have  never  been  much  of  a  praying  man, 
but  then  and  there  I  said  my  little  **Now  I 
lay  me  down  to  sleep.'' 

It  was  the  only  thing  that  came  to  my  mind. 

Then  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  I 
ought  to  make  another  effort  to  right  that 
304 


MEETING  THE  KING 

machine,  but  in  an  instant  I  had  discovered 
that  it  was  useless. 

Through  my  mind  flashed  every  experience 
I  had  had,  and  I  remembered  how  the  boys 
had  asked  me  what  flowers  I  wanted  for  my 
funeral.  I  was  just  wondering  what  differ- 
ence it  could  make  to  a  man  what  flowers  he 
might  get  when  all  of  a  sudden  the  machine 
righted  itself  and  began  to  sail  upon  an  even 
keel. . 

That  fact  restored  me  to  normal.  It  flashed 
over  my  mind  that  I  had  just  made  a  glorious 
nose  dive,  and  I  once  more  sought  the  control. 
But  the  stick  would  not  move.  As  we  say 
in  the  service,  **It  had  taken  the  bone  in  its 
teeth,"  and  that  being  the  case  there  was 
nothing  I  could  do  to  keep  the  machine 
righted.  I  was  heading  for  the  ground  at  the 
rate  of  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles 
an  hour,  and,  strange  to  say,  had  now  given 
up  all  thought  that  I  would  be  killed  by  the 
fall.  I  pictured  the  surgeons  pulling  struts 
out  of  my  back  and  connecting  rods  from  my 
knees.  The  thought  filled  me  with  a  very 
peculiar  fury.  I  would  not  go  to  another 
hospital  if  I  could  prevent  it,  no,  not  if  I 
305 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

liad  to  break  every  control  in  the  machine. 

The  machine  was  now  diving  towards  some 
trees  standing  by  a  roadside.  I  feared  that  I 
would  hit  the  first  of  them,  but  the  machine 
just  cleared  them.  Just  as  it  ** zoomed''  over 
the  top  of  the  tree  the  displacement  of  air 
from  the  plane  waved  the  tree-top,  so  close 
^id  it  pass.  I  was  not  far  from  the  ground 
now  and  still  going  at  terrific  speed.  I  would 
give  those  levers  another  try,  I  thought.  I 
tugged  away  at  them  with  all  my  might  but 
not  a  t)ne  of  them  responded.  The  machine 
hit  the  ground  and  a  hedge  just  as  I  was 
straining  every  muscle  at  the  controls.  The 
first  contact  threw  me  out  of  the  cockpit. 
After  describing  three  somersaults  I  landed 
on  the  ground,  striking  on  my  shoulders  and 
neck.  My  escape  had  been  truly  miraculous, 
so  much  so  that  I  began  to  feel  myself  all 
over  in  an  effort  to  find  the  bones  which  I 
thought  were  surely  broken.  I  felt  no  pain, 
and  so  with  that  I  finally  concluded  that  I 
was  still  whole.  I  lit  a  cigarette  and  then 
walked  over  to  view  the  wreck  of  the  ma- 
chine. 

I  saw  that  it  could  be  written  off  the  lists. 
306 


MEETING  THE  KING 

I  found  that  a  defective  tappet  rod  had 
caused  the  trouble,  cutting  the  coul  around 
the  engine,  which  revolved  at  the  rate  of  1,300 
revs,  a  minute,  and  that  in  some  manner, 
which  will  never  be  explained,  the  propeller 
got  tangled  up  with  the  machine  gun  and  that 
the  force  of  this  contact  strained  every  part 
of  the  machine  to  such  an  extent  that  it  be- 
came unmanageable,  allowing  the  engine  to 
fall  back  on  my  knees  and  push  my  feet  off 
the  rudder  control. 

Some  people  came  tearing  down  the  road 
in  a  motor  car.  One  of  them  was  a  doctor, 
who  insisted  that  I  should  come  over  to  his 
house  for  an  examination.  I  had  convinced 
myself  that  I  was  still  in  working  order,  but 
I  wanted  to  reach  the  headquarters  of  my 
squadron  by  telephone,  and  for  that  reason 
I  gladly  accepted  the  invitation  of  the 
doctor. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  house  I  telephoned 
to  the  squadron  and  then  gave  myself  into 
the  hands  of  the  doctor,  who  seemed  to  be  a 
very  painstaking  man.  But  I  will  say  for  his 
wife  that  she  had  her  husband  skinned  to> 
death  as  a  doctor.  She  went  into  the  dining- 
307 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

room  and  presently  retnrned  with  a  bottle 
of  Scotch  whiskey,  a  glass,  and  some  soda. 

**I  know  what  he  needs  more  than  anything 
right  now,''  she  said,  as  she  poured  me  a 
drink. 

And  the  lady  certainly  was  right. 

I  am  not  a  drinking  man,  but  after  a  crash 
of  that  sort  there  is  nothing  on  earth  that 
will  do  a  man  so  much  good  as  a  cigarette  and 
a  glass  of  Scotch  and  soda. 

At  about  midnight  a  wrecking  lorry  and 
crew  arrived,  and  by  the  first  light  of  dawn 
we  had  the  machine  all  loaded  and  on  its  way 
to  the  repair  depot.  The  commander  of  my 
unit  gave  me  five  days'  leave  of  absence 
for  the  purpose  of  having  me  regain  my 
nerve. 

The  medico  of  the  squadron  told  me  that 
I  had  better  go  to  a  place  where  I  would  not 
see  an  airplane.  To  follow  his  advice,  which 
I  deemed  kindly  enough,  I  went  to  a  little 
seaside  town  which  has  the  reputation  of  be- 
ing a  very  restful  place.  I  had  worn  uniform 
so  long  now  that  I  was  anxious  to  find  out 
how  it  felt  to  wear  civilian  clothing  again. 
I  bought  myself  a  suit  of  flannels,  and  I  did 
308 


MEETING  THE  KING 

enjoy  the  change  from  the  eternal  khaki  very 
nrnch. 

The  little  place  I  went  to  is  like  most  of 
the  English  coast  towns — ^very  pretty  and 
picturesque.  Some  famous  poet  lived  there 
once  upon  a  time  and  every  little  landmark 
had  its  history.  I  stayed  in  a  little  inn  kno\\Ti 
as  the  Eed  Cow,  and  one  of  the  first  things  I 
did  was  to  go  for  a  swim.  I  had  a  good  one. 
Then  I  went  home  and  after  dinner  went  to 
bed,  because  soldiers  in  England  are  so  com- 
monplace now  that  nobody  looks  at  them  any 
longer.  I  had  a  good  sleep  as  a  civilian,  and 
next  morning'  went  out  for  a  game  of  golf. 
I  know  little  about  that  game,  but  the  old 
man  with  whom  I  was  playing  was  an  expert. 
To  make  it  interesting  for  me  he  gave  me  a 
handicap  of  seven  holes.  My  partner  also 
had  a  very  fine  line  of  golf  stories  and  he 
could  hit  a  ball  so  hard  that  it  took  two  men 
to  see  it  fly,  one  to  say,  *Hhere  she  goes"  and 
the  other,  **here  she  is.*^ 

We  had  just  gotten  to  the  seventh  hole  and 
I  was  doing  finely  when  I  heard  a  familiar 
hum  in  the  air ;  on,  looking  up,  I  saw  an  air- 
plane just  about  to  land  on  the  golf  links. 
309 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

Its  pilot  was  a  student  and  he  had  lost  his 
way.  He  told  me  that  this  was  his  first  solo 
trip  with  a  war-type  machine.  I  advised  him 
to  call  up  his  squadron  since  he  had  landed 
in  an  awkward  place.  He  was  not  so  sure 
that  he  could  get  up  again. 

I  took  the  man  to  the  nearest  telephone 
and  as  a  reward  the  commanding  officer  asked 
me  to  fly  the  pupil  home.  I  could  not  very 
well  refuse,  so  I  got  into  the  machine  and  flew 
the  pupil  back  to  the  squad.  But  the  com- 
manding officer  was  nice  about  it.  He  sent 
me  back  in  one  of  the  cars  of  the  squadron, 
after  we  had  lunched  together. 

Upon  my  return  to  the  hotel  I  found  a 
letter  from  the  doctor  telling  me  to  be  sure 
and  keep  away  from  airplanes.  I  wrote  back 
to  him  that  he  would  have  to  find  another 
place  for  me,  and  that  it  would  have  to  be 
entirely  out  of  England  so  far  as  I  could  see. 
To  keep  away  from  airplanes  in  little  Eng- 
land was  quite  impossible  at  that  time.  Two 
days  later  another  landed  in  the  sea  just  off 
shore  and  I  had  to  help  fish  it  out.  When  the 
five  days'  leave  of  absence  were  over  I  felt 
that  I  had  had  a  change  but  not  a  rest. 
310 


MEETING  THE  KING 

I  went  back  to  the  squadron  and  started  to 
work  again.  A  few  days  later  we  were  told 
to  put  on  our  best  uniforms.  The  King  and 
Queen  and  Princess  Mary  were  coming  down 
to  visit  the  squadron  and  we  were  to  be  pre- 
sented to  them.  Four  of  us  were  to  fly  for 
the  royal  family  and  I  was  to  be  one  of  them. 
The  machine  I  was  to  fly  was  one  of  the 
slowest  machines,  used  for  training  pur- 
poses. 

As  the  automobiles  of  the  royal  family  and 
their  suite  appeared  on  the  aerodrome,  we 
went  up.  There  was  quite  a  gale  blowing 
and  it  took  some  effort  to  get  around  the 
aerodrome.  The  machine  I  was  flying  was 
heavy  and  difficult  to  handle. 

Near  the  aerodrome  lies  a  railroad  track 
and  a  freight  train  was  coming  down  the  line. 
It  occurred  to  me  that  it  might  not  be  amiss 
to  give  the  royal  family  a  little  exhibition, 
and  with  that  in  mind  I  started  off  on  a  race 
with  the  train.  But  the  engineer  brought  off 
the  honors.  He  left  me  behind,  much  to  the 
amusement  of  the  royal  family. 

On  landing  I  was  presented  to  the  King, 
Queen,  and  Princess.  To  my  great  surprise 
311 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

the  King  recognized  me  again.  That  a  man 
with  all  the  cares  he  has  should  remember 
faces  so  well  impressed  me  very  much.  The 
King  asked  me  a  few  questions  regarding 
flying,  and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation 
I  learned  that  he  knew  more  about  it  than  I 
had  expected.  The  King  is  an  honorary 
colonel  of  the  Royal  Flying  Corps.  He  im- 
pressed me  as  a  very  able  man,  and  I  was  glad 
that  I  had  been  in  his  service  and  had  been 
given  the  chance  to  fight  for  a  country  like 
England.  But  for  all  that  I  never  forgot  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  I  always  carried  an 
American  flag  in  my  baggage.  One  day  a 
machine  of  a  very  advanced  pattern  was  to 
be  presented  to  General  Smuts,  the  noted 
South  African  general.  The  machine  was  in 
our  care,  and  our  aerodrome  and  its  build- 
ings had  been  decorated  in  regular  Fourth 
of  July  fashion.  The  flags  of  all  the  Allies 
floated  over  it  except  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 
Ham  and  I  inquired  why  this  flag  had  been 
omitted,  and  were  told  that  one  large  enough 
could  not  be  found.  We  made  up  our  minds 
to  find  an  American  flag  that  was  large 
enough.  It  took  two  hours  to  do  it,  but  by  the 
312 


MEETING  THE  KING 

end  of  that  time  we  had  a  flag  ten  feet  long 
which  we  hoisted  on  the  highest  pole  we  could 
find  on  the  hangars,  much  to  the  amusement 
of  the  commanding  officer  and  the  boys. 

The  presentation  of  the  airplane  to  Gen- 
eral Smuts  developed  into  quite  an  event. 
The  machine  was  given  to  the  General  by 
some  Government  officials,  and  then  it  was 
christened  by  one  of  the  ladies  present. 
Mr.  Hucks,  one  of  the  old-time  pilots,  was 
instructed  to  fly  the  machine,  and  it  behaved 
very  well.  Four  of  us  did  some  stunt  flying 
and  amused  the  crowd  for  an  hour  or  so. 

A  few  days  later  an  escort  from  our  squad- 
ron was  detailed  to  go  to  Hyde  Park,  where 
King  George  was  to  hold  an  open  air  invest- 
iture. About  thirty  men  from  various  squad- 
rons were  detailed  for  the  work,  which  con- 
sisted of  patrolling  at  from  5,000  to  15,000 
feet.  To  see  the  thousands  of  people  crowd- 
ing around  the  large  stand  that  had  been 
erected  for  the  King  was  quite  a  sight. 

Among  those  decorated  by  the  King  were 
a  good  many  who  had  been  crippled  and 
maimed  for  life  in  the  war.  I  felt  great  satis- 
faction in  being  able  to  assist  at  the  cere- 
313 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

mony,  and  to  see  men  honored  who  had  sac- 
rificed so  much  in  so  good  a  cause. 

A  few  days  later  I  was  sent  to  France  with 
the  last  machine  I  delivered  for  the  British 
Government.  Five  machines,  in  all,  were  to 
be  taken  over  by  this  convoy.  Mine  was  a 
two-seater,  and  I  had  a  pupil  with  me  whom 
I  was  to  take  as  far  as  the  coast,  from  which 
point  I  would  be  accompanied  by  an  aerial 
gunner.  The  two  of  us  were  to  fight  off  the 
Huns  in  case  they  should  attack  the  flock. 
We  met  no  Huns  while  crossing  the  Channel, 
but  learned  that  they  had  raided  England 
again  on  that  very  day. 

Upon  my  landing  at  the  squadron  in  France 
I  learned  that  the  Huns  had  done  consider- 
able damage  to  the  aerodrome.  One  of  their 
bombs  had  killed  two  equipment  officers  and 
a  flight  commander,  who  had  been  in  the  very 
act  of  going  on  leave  of  absence. 

That  night  I  went  to  B ,  where  I  in- 
tended staying  over  night,  having  missed  the 
afternoon  cross-channel  boat.  There  being 
nothing  to  do  after  dinner  we  decided  to  turn 
in,  but  had  scarcely  done  that  when  we  were 
routed  out  of  bed  by  gun-fire.  The  Huns 
314 


MEETING  THE  KING 

were  making  another  raid  and  were  bombing 
the  city.  A  couple  of  bombs  fell  into  the 
camp  of  an  ambulance  unit  and  killed  a  few 
men.  Another  bomb  killed  a  Chinese  coolie 
and  scared  a  hundred  nearly  to  death.  The 
Chinese  were  making  off  for  the  timber  at  an 
incredible  speed  when  the  Huns  sailed  away. 
It  took  some  time  to  quiet  that  rabble. 

After  a  while  people  came  out  of  their  cel- 
lars and  resumed  their  occupations,  but  with- 
in two  hours  another  Hun  came  over  and 
started  the  ball  rolling  once  more.  The 
French  ** Archie''  batteries  were  quite  busy, 
and  I  was  standing  on  the  fire  escape  of  the 
hotel  watching  the  shrapnel  explode,  living 
over  again  meanwhile  some  of  the  experiences 
I  have  had  at  the  front,  when — zip ! — crash ! 
Just  across  the  street  from  me  in  the  fish 
market  landed  one  of  the  Hun's  bombs. 
It  was  a  lucky  thing  that  there  was  no- 
body in  the  market  at  the  time  or  otherwise 
the  list  of  casualties  would  have  been  long. 
After  that  the  Hun  disappeared  and  we  were 
bothered  no  more  that  night. 

There  was  little  to  do  in  our  aerodrome 
now  for  a  while.  Now  and  then  we  would 
315 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

test  a  machine,  but,  the  weather  being  very 
unfavorable  just  then  and  time  hanging  heavy 
upon  our  hands,  many  of  us  were  given  leave 
of  absence.  The  same  state  of  affairs  pre- 
vailed at  the  other  aerodromes,  and  a  great 
deal  of  time  was  put  in  by  the  pilots  visiting 
one  another.  It  did  us  good  to  see  again 
familiar  faces,  and  most  of  the  men  had  very 
interesting  stories  to  tell.  One  of  the  friends 
who  called  on  me  at  that  time  was  Peter 
Gondie,  who  had  joined  the  first  unit  to  which 
I  belonged  in  Canada.  Peter  had  managed 
to  get  into  the  Eoyal  Flying  Corps,  and  one 
of  his  adventures  was  a  fight  with  six  Huns 
in  which  he  had  been  hit  by  bullets  four  times 
in  the  knee.  Peter  and  I  had  served  together 
in  the  same  unit  for  some  time.  He  was  a 
private  then  and  I  a  staff  sergeant.  Like  my- 
self, he  had  since  managed  to  get  a  commis- 
sion, but  was  now  about  to  be  invalided  out 
of  the  service. 

Another  man  whom  I  met  then  was  Capt. 
Foot,  commonly  known  as  **Feet,"  a  famous 
British  flyer,  who  has  brought  down  many 
Huns.  I  met  him  in  a  theater.  He  was  a 
very  fine  fellow.  He  had  a  peculiar  habit  of 
316 


LEAVING   FOR   THE   LINES 


I2A    BOMBING    AND    FIGHTING    PLANE 


MEETING  THE  KING 

flying  without  goggles  and  without  a  helmet*] 
Shortly  after  I  met  him  he  went  back  to 
France  and  there  added  more  glory  to  his 
name  by  mixing  it  with  another  gang  of 
Huns. 

I  also  met  Carl  Beattie  in  the  course  of  this 
spell  of  inactivity.  I  had  served  with  him  in 
the  ranks.  He  told  me  that  he  was  waiting 
for  some  other  friends  of  ours,  and  presently 
they  showed  up.  One  of  them  was  Scottie 
Allen  and  the  other  Ballis.  The  former, 
poor  chap,  had  lost  his  right  arm.  He 
had  gotten  into  a  fight  with  two  Huns  one  day 
and  had  been  hit  seven  times.  The  worst  of 
it  was  that  they  had  gotten  him  while  he 
was  still  an  observer ;  for  that  reason  Scottie 
had  never  known  what  it  was  to  fly  a  machine 
himself.  We  had  all  served  together  in  a 
Canadian  unit. 

And  we  talked  of  the  old  times  when  we 
were  in  the  Mechanical  Transport  Section 
in  France  and  breaking  our  necks  to  get  into 
the  Eoyal  Flying  Corps.  We  laughed  over 
our  efforts  to  learn  wireless  telegraphy.  We 
had  made  ourselves  wireless  keys  and  buzzers 
and  had  taken  the  batteries  of  the  lorries  to 
317 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

furnish  the  necessary  electricity.  We  had 
also  managed  to  get  a  copy  of  the  Morse 
code,  as  used  in  France,  and  after  we  had 
mastered  the  alphabet  we  nsed  to  amuse 
ourselves  sending  wireless  dispatches  to  one 
another.  That  kind  gj^  thing  has  its  value. 
When  I  joined  the  Flying  Corps  I  was 
actually  able  to  send  fifteen  words  and  re- 
ceive about  ten  per  minute.  We  also  re- 
minded one  another  of  the  days  when  we 
used  to  stop  our  lorries  near  an  aero- 
drome on  the  main  road  to  the  lines. 
None  of  us  ever  passed  that  spot  without 
stopping  long  enough  to  see  some  flyer  go  up 
or  land.  We  thought  of  all  the  silly  ques- 
tions we  had  asked  and  of  the  funny  replies 
that  had  been  given  us. 

During  this  dull  season  somebody  decided 
that  we  ought  to  take  a  course  in  aircraft 
construction  at  one  of  the  largest  plants  in 
England.  It  was  quite  an  interesting  ex- 
perience. Much  of  the  work  was  done  by 
women,  to  release  men  who  were  fit  for  mili- 
tary service  in  France.  I  was  much  surprised 
at  the  quality  and  quantity  of  the  work  done 
by  the  women.  In  addition  to  stretching  the 
318 


MEETING  THE  KING 

fabric  on  the  planes,  they  were  helping  in 
the  building  of  frames,  and  they  also  put  on 
the  preparation  which  is  used  to  shrink  the 
fabric  after  it  is  sewed  on.  Some  of  them 
assisted  in  making  propellers,  while  others 
varnished  them. 

The  women  of  England  have  proven  in 
fact  that  they  can  do  anything  that  a  man 
can  do,  and  it  is  my  opinion  that  if  they  were 
given  a  fair  chance  they  would  make  just  as 
good  fighters.  They  are  employed  every- 
where. Some  of  the  ammunition  works  em- 
ploy as  many  as  7,000  of  them.  They  are 
nowadays  also  employed  in  France  as  motor 
drivers  and  clerks,  and  are  quite  capable  of 
doing  such  heavy  work  as  driving  lorries. 
In  machine  shops  I  saw  the  women  handle 
lathes  and  other  machines.  On  the  farms 
they  do  the  plowing,  and  I  doubt  very  much 
if  England  could  continue  the  war  without 
its  woman  labor.  When  we  arrived  at  the 
factory  there  was  a  shortage  in  materials  and 
for  that  reason  we  could  not  do  very  much, 
aside  from  looking  over  machines  that  were 
ready.  Some  of  my  time  I  devoted  to  the 
study  of  cloud  formations  -and  wind  currents. 
21  319 


CHAPTER  XXI 


IN  THE  CLOUDS 


The  problem  of  flying  in  clouds  had  always 
interested  me  greatly.  There  is  no  accurate 
instrument  that  will  tell  the  flyer  what  course 
he  is  holding,  and  often  this  results  in  the 
man  finding  himself  in  dangerous  positions 
while  flying  in  thick  weather.  I  have  been  in 
clouds  so  dense  that  I  could  not  see  the  wing 
tips  of  my  machine.  Under  such  circum- 
stances it  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  estab- 
lish what  his  position  is  in  relation  to  the 
horizon.  He  is  likely  to  come  out  of  the 
clouds  in  almost  any  position.  In  fact,  the 
squadron  commander,  who  examined  me 
as  to  my  mechanical  ability  when  I  joined 
the  service,  once  came  out  of  a  cloud  on 
his  back  at  a  height  of  6,000  or  7,000 
feet,  to  find  that  he  had  dropped  his  observer 
out.  He  landed  as  fast  as  he  could  and  started 
to  search  for  the  poor  fellow,  but  the  man 
320 


IN  THE  CLOUDS 

had  been  killed  outright  and  half  buried  in 
the  fall. 

The  oddest  cloud  formations  may  be  met 
at  times.  Once  I  was  up  above  the  main 
stratum,  which  was  about  3,000  feet  thick, 
and  was  broken  by  holes  here  and  there.  I 
had  climbed  through  one  of  these  holes  to 
the  top  of  the  cloud,  but  when  finally  I  came 
clear  the  hole  had  closed  up. 

All  I  could  see  was  a  large  white  cloud  that 
showed  no  breaks  of  any  sort.  There  were 
large  peaks  on  this  cloud,  and  with  my  back 
towards  the  sun  I  started  to  fly  towards  one 
of  them.  As  I  came  close  to  it,  I  saw  on  its 
very  side  the  outlines  of  another  airplane. 
I  had  seen  no  other  flyers  near  me  and  I 
wondered  where  this  one  had  come  from  so 
suddenly.  Before  long  I  noticed  that  the  ma- 
chine was  coming  towards  me.  I  tried  to 
avoid  it,  but  found  that  the  machine  changed 
its  position  accordingly.  I  was  sure  that 
there  would  be  a  smash-up.  I  tried  to  get 
out  of  the  way  of  the  machine  by  a  sharp 
turn,  but  that  idiot  of  a  pilot  executed  the 
same  manoeuvre.  Then  I  climbed  to  get  over 
him  and  the  other  machine  did  the  same.  A 
321 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

collision  seemed  inevitable.    I  closed  my  eyes 
and  waited  for  the  crash. 

But  I  waited  in  vain.  I  had  judged  the 
distance  between  the  two  machines  accurately, 
and  after  I  was  convinced  that  I  had  passed 
the  other  one  I  opened  my  eyes  again — just 
as  my  plane  was  poking  its  nose  into  the 
cloud  peak  against  whose  sides  its  outlines 
hkd  been  cast  by  the  sun. 

As  I  rushed  through  the  mist  I  was  not 
yet  sure  that  this  had  really  been  the  case, 
so  when  I  had  emerged  on  the  farther  side  I 
banked  and  described  a  circle  around  the 
peak  to  find  the  other  machine.  But  there 
was  no  doubt  that  the  machine  I  had  seen 
had  been  the  shadow  of  my  own.  I  recalled 
then  that  the  contour  of  the  other  machine 
had  been  framed  in  an  iridescence  showing 
all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  it  would  be  well  to  do  it  all  over 
again,  and  I  did.  I  reached  the  same  position 
as  before  and  went  once  more  through  the 
sensation  of  a  crash  in  the  air. 

On  another  occasion  I  saw  a  peak  that  had 
a  large  archway  in  it.    I  made  up  my  mind 
to  fly  through  it.     The  peak  seemed  quite 
322 


IN  THE  CLOUDS 

close  but  I  kept  on  flying  without  reaching 
the  portal.  What  I  had  taken  for  a  distance 
of  only  a  few  hundred  yards  proved  ulti- 
mately to  be  ten  miles.  But  I  got  to  the 
archway  in  the  end,  and  as  I  rushed  through 
it  the  air  currents  made  by  the  propeller 
caused  the  entire  structure  to  collapse.  In 
fact,  I  drew  a  great  deal  of  it  after  me,  the 
vapors  following  my  machine  like  the  tail  of 
a  kite. 

Other  peaks  I  tried  to  hurdle,  but  gener- 
ally I  would  be  deceived  in  the  distance.  I 
would  imagine  that  I  had  gone  over  the  peak 
only  to  find  that  this  was  not  the  case  and  I 
would  find  myself  crashing  through  it.  In 
other  cases  it  would  be  still  ahead  of  me,  but 
once  in  a  while  I  would  come  down  to  my 
former  level  close  enough  to  the  peak  to  dive 
through  it. 

Most  of  the  pilots  have  a  great  deal  of 
fun  in  the  clouds,  but  they  also  find  them  very 
troublesome.  Eain  clouds  are  generally  quite 
black  underneath,  and  show  all  sorts  of  pro- 
jections which  are  visible  from  the  ground. 
"Within  the  clouds  themselves  wind  currents  of 
varying  velocity  race  back  and  forth.  The 
323 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

bumps  on  the  clouds  are  generally  caused  by 
the  uneven  density  of  the  mists,  and  stand  in 
direct  relation  to  the  wind  currents  beneath 
and  within  the  clouds.  The  airplane  going 
through  a  cloud  of  that  sort  may  drop  from 
two  to  three  hundred  feet  at  a  time,  with- 
out the  pilot,  who  sees  nothing  but  his  ma- 
chine and  the  vapor  around  him,  noticing  it. 
Clouds  of  that  sort  have  been  the  cause  of  a 
good  many  bad  spills. 

I  have  often  been  asked  by  friends  Sow 
one  feels  when  up  in  the  air  some  five  miles. 
That  is  not  so  easy  to  explain,  for  on  almost 
every  trip  a  man  experiences  different  emo- 
tions. It  depends  largely  on  the  state  of 
his  nerves  and  on  his  general  physical  con- 
dition. But  I  may  say  that  the  feeling  which 
oftenest  came  over  me  was  that  I  had  no  busi- 
ness in  those  lofty  regions.  Not  having  lived 
the  life  of  a  saint,  I  could  not  help  thinking 
of  the  hereafter  and  of  the  supernatural  pow- 
ers that  are  supposed  to  govern  it ;  inciden- 
tally I  felt  convinced  that  there  was  a  here- 
after. At  times  it  did  not  affect  me  at 
aU. 

But  finally  one  comes  to  believe  that  his  life 
324 


IN  THE  CLOUDS 

is  entirely  within  the  hands  of  the  Supreme 
Power. 

If  that  Power  willed  to  put  an  end  to  my 
life  on  earth,  it  had  but  to  fracture  one  of 
my  planes  or  to  demolish  some  other  part  of 
the  machine.  I  would  crash  to  earth  then 
within  a  few  minutes  and  certain  death  would 
be  my  lot 

There  were  times  when,  sailing  up  in  the 
eternal  blue  with  the  noise  of  the  motor  the 
only  sound  to  reach  my  ears — and  even  that 
becomes  negligible  after  a  while  through  con- 
stant hearing — I  would  experience  a  degree 
of  lonesomeness  that  is  impossible  to  clearly 
describe.  Below  me  might  pulsate  a  tre- 
mendous field  of  clouds,  all  gray  and  white, 
and  around  and  above  me  nothing  but  the 
blue.  On  the  earth  it  might  be  raining,  but 
up  there  the  sun  was  shining. 

Under  such  circumstances  one's  life  un- 
rolled as  though  it  were  a  supernatural  mov- 
ing picture.  I  used  to  review  my  past  and 
find  great  satisfaction  in  the  thought  that  I 
had  never  stolen  anything  nor  killed  a  man  in 
civil  life.  I  took  it  for  granted  that  if  an 
angel  should  step  out  from  u  cloud  and 
325 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

tell  me  I  had  no  right  up  there,  he  would  know 
that  much  about  me.  But  at  the  same  time 
I  resolved  to  obey  his  command  immediately 
if  he  should  order  me  to  the  earth. 

Sometimes  I  would  shut  the  engine  off  for 
the  purpose  of  gliding  down.  I  would  then 
feel  the  absolute  silence  all  the  more,  until 
the  stays  and  wires  of  my  machine  began  to 
sing  and  screech  from  the  pressure  while  in 
a  nose  dive.  With  the  wires  strumming  and 
the  plane  making  the  sound  of  a  drum  when- 
ever the  machine  changed  its  position  the 
veriest  fraction  of  an  inch,  new  thoughts 
came  to  me.  They  brought  me  back  to  the 
reality  of  things — the  care  of  the  machine. 
One  never  knew  when  a  part  of  the  contriv- 
ance, which  had  stood  the  strain  of  the  last 
dive,  might  snap.  In  that  case  it  would  be 
all  over. 

Pilots  and  observers  are  a  rather  queer  lot 
while  on  the  ground.  The  language  they  use 
is  not  always  of  the  best,  and  often  they  do 
things  which  are  not  exactly  right,  although 
as  a  whole  they  are  of  the  best. 

But  up  in  the  air  it  is  different.  In  the 
course  of  time  the  flyer  becomes  very  super- 
326 


IN  THE  CLOUDS 

stitions.  He  comes  to  believe  in  the  queerest 
things.  For  instance,  it  is  absolutely  impos- 
sible to  induce  an  aviator  to  be  the  third  one 
to  light  his  cigarette  from  the  same  match. 
Two  or  four  will  do  so,  but  I've  never  known 
a  man  to  have  the  courage  to  be  the  third. 
Some  of  them  carry  their  superstition  so  far 
that  they  will  not  be  the  third  man  even  if 
there  are  four. 

They  used  to  tell  a  little  story  of  a  squadron 
in  France  three  of  whose  pilots  were  stand- 
ing on  the  aerodrome  one  day  waiting  to  go 
up  on  patrol.  The  three  of  them  wanted  to 
smoke,  but  had  only  one  match  between  them. 
Two  of  them  lighted  their  cigarettes  on  that 
match.  It  so  happened  that  the  third  was  a 
man  who  was  not  so  very  superstitious, 
or  else  he  wanted  to  smoke  very  badly.  He 
requested  the  privilege  of  lighting  up.  The 
others  did  not  like  that,  for,  according  to 
the  general  belief,  it  is  the  third  man  who 
will  be  overtaken  by  disaster.  In  this 
case  the  man  was  very  popular  and  his 
friends  did  not  like  to  see  him  do  it.  But  he 
insisted  and  they  finally  consented.  He  went 
up  on  patrol  and  while  fighting  off  a  Hun 
327 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

was   shot  down  behind  the   German  lines. 

That  story  was  spread  around,  and  there- 
after the  superstition  was  duly  heeded 
throughout  the  Royal  Flying  Corps. 

With  many  of  the  men,  the  mascot  was 
really  a  fetish.  Some  of  these  fetishes  were 
of  a  most  peculiar  character.  The  animals, 
which  were  kept  in  the  camps,  were  looked 
upon  as  harbingers  of  good-luck  for  the  or- 
ganization. But  each  man  had  his  own  little 
fetish.  It  was  known  as  the  pocket-piece  or 
mascot.  In  some  cases  it  might  be  a  dice  or  a 
playing-card.  A  man  who  had  often  drawn 
an  ace  to  a  full  house,  flush  or  a  straight,  was 
bound  to  look  upon  aces  in  the  end  as  the 
thing  that  would  bring  him  good  luck.  In 
other  cases  it  might  be  a  locket,  then  again  a 
medal,  while  many  of  us  carried  little  woollen 
dolls.  Even  photographs  were  said  to  have 
the  quality  which  we  expected  of  our  fetishes. 
One  of  the  men  looked  upon  his  pipe  as  a 
fetish,  while  another  cherished  a  piece  of 
Chinese  jade  upon  which  he  counted.  An- 
other had  a  knife.  Many  of  the  men  wore 
bracelets  on  one  wrist.  In  fact,  nine-tenths 
of  the  pilots  in  the  Corps  possessed  some 
328 


A   SQUADRON   OF    SINGLE-SEATED   FIGHTERS 


A   PAIR   OF   BIRDS,   AUTHOR  AND   MACHINE 


IN  THE  CLOUDS 

queer    sort    of    personal    charm    or    fetish. 

Some  of  the  men  carried  these  things  only 
in  their  flying  clothes,  but  others  grew  so 
superstitions  that  they  would  transfer  them 
into  a  pocket  of  their  other  clothing;  they 
refused  to  be  without  their  pocket-piece  at 
any  time. 

I  remember  walking  down  the  Strand  with 
a  friend  of  mine  one  day.  We  came  to  a 
ladder  upon  which  stood  a  window  cleaner; 
inadvertently  I  walked  under  it.  That  friend 
called  me  every  name  he  could  think  of  for 
walking  under  the  ladder.  And  yet  he  was 
the  last  person  in  whom  I  should  have  thought 
to  discover  any  superstition.  He  was  an  old 
miner  and  a  wild  man  besides.  Later  we  re- 
turned to  the  aerodrome  and  I  went  up  for 
a  flight.  I  had  tried  my  machine  and  looked 
it  over  carefully  before  leaving  the  ground. 
It  was  all  right  then. 

Before  going  up  my  friend  had  warned 
me  to  be  very  careful,  and  I  remember  that 
in  the  act  of  gliding  to  earth  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  tell  him  that  he  was  just  a  little  too 
finicky  about  signs  and  omens.  But  on  land- 
ing I  broke  my  under-carriage  and  the  ma- 
329 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

chine  was  smashed  up  considerably  before  it 
came  to  a  stop.  I  changed  my  mind  after 
that,  and  carefully  avoided  walking  under 
more  ladders. 

But  that  is  not  all.  Some  of  us  acquired 
the  habit  of  fi!?.ding  omens  in  the  queer  con- 
tours of  the  clouds  and  the  many  fantastic 
shapes  these  mist  formations  will  assume. 
Of  course  that  was  going  rather  far,  but  some 
of  these  flying  boys  become  very  supersti- 
tious. 

The  effect  of  nerve  tension  on  a  flyer  who 
has  lost  his  nerve  may  become  permanent 
as  far  as  flying  is  concerned.  I  have  known 
men  who  would  grow  sick  at  the  mere  sight  of 
a  machine,  and  for  this  reason  cease  to  be  of 
any  value  whatsoever.  Perhaps  in  the  end 
they  would  come  back  to  their  job,  and  one 
would  imagine  that  the  man  ought  to  be  as 
good  as  ever.  But  that  is  not  so.  The  thing 
that  brings  them  back  to  the  aerodrome  is 
often  a  sense  of  duty.  But  the  value  of  the 
man  has  departed;  the  flyer  who  loses  his 
nerve  once  is  lost. 

It  is  my  opinion  that  men  so  affected  have 
brooded  too  long  over  the  fact  that  in  the 
330 


IN  THE  CLOUDS 

end    the    flyer    is    bound    to    be    brought 
down. 
There  is  a  saying  among  flyers: 
*  *  If  you  stick  to  it  long  enough  you  're  bound 
to  get  it.'^ 

And  the  saying  is  all  too  true  as  the  cas- 
ualty records  show. 

In  the  latter  part  of  September,  1917, 1  had 
to  go  to  a  hospital,  being  afflicted  with  bron- 
chial asthma.  Everything  possible  was  done 
to  restore  me,  but  I  could  feel  that  little  good 
had  come  of  the  treatment  I  had  been  under. 
I  was  sent  before  a  board  of  medical  exam- 
iners, who  recommended  that  I  should  be  sent 
home. 

I  had  been  in  Europe  thirty-two  months, 
and  of  this  time  I  had  spent  twenty-two 
months  in  France,  and  the  remainder  in  Eng- 
land, engaged  in  testing  and  ferrying  work. 
And  not  a  few  weeks  of  that  time  had  been 
spent  in  the  hospital.  Though  I  had  been  in 
the  service  for  thirty-eight  months,  I  was  not 
tired  of  it,  and  if  my  health  had  permitted  it 
I  would  have  gladly  continued. 

Upon  my  arrival  in  Canada  I  was  examined 
331 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

again  and  found  to  be  permanently  disabled, 
having  contracted  chronic  bronchial  asthma, 
due  to  the  climatic  conditions  of  France  and 
England,  and  the  results  of  my  old  wounds. 
The  board  ruled  that  I  was  unfit  for  further 
service  in  His  Majesty's  armies. 

While  in  the  service  I  learned  that  a  man 
never  knows  what  he  can  do  until  he  has  to 
do  it.  I  look  upon  my  participation  in  the 
European  War  as  the  greatest  honor  that 
can  be  bestowed  upon  a  man. 

The  army  is  one  of  the  greatest  teachers 
of  all  time.  Its  lessons  may  be  costly,  but 
they  are  of  great  value. 

I  cannot  praise  too  highly  the  work  done 
by  the  nurses  and  doctors  in  the  Allied 
service  in  France  and  England,  and  to  me 
they  will  always  be  the  Army  of  Mercy.  They 
are  saviours  of  humanity. 


APPENDIX 
JUST  FLYING  MAN'S  TALK 

AILERONS.  Movable  section  of  the  main  planes 
located  at  the  end  and  rear  of  the  plane  by 
which  the  bank  for  turning  is  obtained. 

A.  M.    An  air  mechanic. 

ANEROID.  An  instrument  which  registers  approxi- 
mate height  and  which  is  set  before  leaving  the 
ground. 

ARCHIE.  Any  Hun  anti-aircraft  battery,  which 
sends  up  high  explosive  shells  at  inoffensive 
British  or  Allied  birdmen,  and  which  generally 
shoots  too  straight. 

ARMSTRONG  HUT.  A  hut  about  two-by-twice  in 
size  made  of  laths  and  canvas.  The  officers  are 
expected  to  live  in  them.  They  are  cold  in 
winter  and  wet  in  summer  and  are  named  after 
the  inventor,  but  they  are  about  one  per  cent, 
better  than  a  tent. 

ART.  OBS.    Abbreviation  for  artillery  observations. 
333 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

BELT.  A  strap  made  of  leather  or  canvas  which  the 
pilot  wears  around  himself  and  which  is  fastened 
to  the  machine  to  prevent  the  pilot  from  falling 
when  he  comes  out  of  clouds  on  his  back  or  does 
some  such  other  stunt. 

BUBBLE.  A  curved  spirit-level  placed  laterally  to 
the  machine,  used  to  denote  side  slips  but 
seldom  used  by  experienced  flyers. 

BUCKED.     Proud  or  pleased. 

BUMPS.  Air  currents  which  upset  the  equilibrium  of 
a  machine  by  tossing  it  around.  They  make 
the  pilot  work  when  they  are  bad  and  they  are 
sometimes  dangerous. 

BUS.    Any  flying  machine  or  aeroplane. 

CANNBER.  The  curvature  on  a  plane.  It  is  some- 
times applied  to  a  pilot's  nose  when  damaged 
after  crashing,  or  after  a  hot  argument. 

C.  C.  A  mechanical  device  by  which  a  machine  gun 
is  timed  to  the  propeller  to  shoot  through  its 
blades  while  in  motion. 

CHOCKS.  The  only  good  things  pertaining  to  flying. 
They  are  placed  in  front  of  the  wheels  of  a 
plane  when  starting  the  engine  to  prevent  the 
plane  from  runnmg  on  the  ground  while  test- 
ing or  running  up  the  engine,  and  they  always 
stay  on  the  ground. 

CHORD.    The  width  of  wings. 

CONKED.  A  new  word  which  is  taken  from  the 
Russian  language  and  which  means  stopped  or 
killed. 

334 


APPENDIX 

CROCK.  Any  soldier  who  is  disabled  for  life  through 
the  European  War. 

DUD.  A  term  characterizing  anything  bad  or  unfa- 
vorable, from  weather  to  pilot  and  observer  or 
gunner. 

EGG  BASKET.  A  tin  box  arrangement  in  which 
bombs  are  placed  for  strafing  Hun  balloons. 

EGGS.  Bombs  weighing  twenty  pounds  and  upward 
filled  with  high  explosives  and  "laid"  in  Hun- 
land. 

ELEVATOR.  A  movable  plane  fastened  to  the  tail 
plane,  by  which  the  up  and  down  movements  of 
a  machine  are  guided,  providing  the  wires  are 
not  shot  away  by  "Archie,"  in  which  case  the 
machine  comes  down  nose  first  and  is  wrecked. 
Some  buses  have  a  plane  which  is  counter- 
balanced and  takes  the  place  of  both  tail  plane 
and  elevator. 

FIN.  A  small  plane  placed  on  edge  on  the  extreme 
rear  of  the  fussakige,  to  which  it  is  fastened. 
It  is  used  to  offset  torque  of  a  propeller  or  for 
added  keel  surface.  The  word  is  sometimes  used 
in  referring  to  each  other's  hands. 

FLAMING  ONIONS.  A  refined  Hun  device  for  bring- 
ing down  Allied  flyers  when  on  low  altitude  night 
reconnaissance  or  bombing  raids.  They  are 
about  the  size  of  a  football,  and,  coming  in 
contact  with  a  plane,  set  it  on  fire. 

FLIP.    A  flight. 

22  335 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

FLYING  FISH  HOOKS.  One  better  than  the  fire-baU 
and  used  by  the  same  people.  They  are  only 
on  either  end,  to  catch  into  the  plane  and  make 
sure  of  burning  it  up  if  contact  is  made. 

FLYING  O.  An  O  with  a  half  wing  attached  to  it 
showing  the  difference  between  a  pilot  and  an 
observer.  It  is  a  brevet  which  can  only  be 
earned  in  France  and  is  only  worn  by  observers 
who  have  qualified. 

FORCED  LANDING.  Landmg  through  engine  or 
other  trouble. 

FUSSALAGE.  The  body  of  a  flying  machine.  When 
the  birdman  wants  to  tell  a  man  he  is  going 
to  hit  him  in  the  body,  he  will  say:  "I'm  going 
to  stave  in  your  fussalage." 

GADGET.    The  same  as  hickie. 

HANGAR.  A  shed  or  structure  made  of  wood,  or  a 
steel  frame-work,  covered  with  canvas,  used  for 
housing  aeroplanes. 

HEINIE.    A  German  flyer. 

HICKIE.  This  word  is  applicable  to  anything  whose 
name  you  don't  remember. 

HUN.  A  student  who  is  learning  to  fly,  called  that 
on  account  of  the  queer  things  he  does.  Every 
pilot  is  a  Hun  imtil  he  has  received  his  wings. 

JOY  STICK.  A  contrivance  by  which  a  machine  is 
partly  controlled.  So  called  because  it  adds 
speed  to  the  machine  when  pushed  forward, 
producing  joy  when  the  pilot  is  in  a  hurry  to 
get  away  from  "Archie." 

336 


APPENDIX 

LOG  BOOKS.  A  set  of  books  in  which  the  record 
of  the  flying  hours  of  an  engine  and  machine 
are  kept  for  reference. 

LONG  RECON.  A  trip  of  from  20  to  80  miles  behind 
the  Him  lines  to  gather  information.  Every- 
body goes  sick  when  there  is  one  to  do,  from 
w'hich  he  returns  if  he's  lucky. 

NOSE.  The  extreme  forward  end  of  any  flying 
machine. 

OBSERVER.  From  pilot's  pomt  of  view,  human 
luggage  ballast  used  to  balance  and  help  a 
machine  while  up  in  the  air  over  the  lines. 

THE  OFFICE.     The  pilot's  cockpit. 

PADRE.    An  army  chaplain. 

PELOT.  The  French  term  for  pilot  commonly  used 
in  the  Fl5dng  Corps. 

PETERED.     Meaning  to  stop  slowly  or  gradually. 

PETOT.    An  instrument  which  records  air  speed. 

PILOT.  From  observer's  point  of  view,  a  chauffeur 
for  the  observer. 

POM  POM.  A  small  anti-aircraft  gun  used  from  the 
ground  on  machines  flying  at  a  low  altitude. 

PROP  OR  CLUB.  The  propeller  of  a  flying  machine, 
generally  fastened  to  the  engine  imtil  displaced 
by  high  explosives.  One  or  more  are  used, 
depending  upon  the  type  of  machine. 

A  PUP  "1 

_  Machines  of  the  Sopwith  make  which 

A  DOLPHIN.  I      i^gj^j.  gQj^g  pQjjjt  of  resemblance  to 

A  CAMEL.       I      the  creature  after  which  they  are 

A  HIPPO.       J      named. 

337 


THE  FLYING  FIGHTER 

REV.  COUNTER.  An  instrument  which  counts  the 
revolutions  of  an  engine  when  it  is  running. 

RUDDER.  The  only  movable  vertical  plane  on  the 
machine.  Fastened  to  the  butt  end  of  the  fus- 
salage  and  used  in  turning  and  correcting 
bumps. 

RUMPTY.  A  machine  of  the  Morris  Farman  type 
used  in  instructional  work,  called  that  on  ac- 
count of  its  queer  movements  in  the  air.  It  is 
sometimes  called  a  longhom  on  account  of  the 
long  skids  on  the  landing-gear  and  is  a  sister 
type  to  the  shorthorn,  which  is  minus  this  length 
of  skids,  and  flies  much  faster. 

SAUSAGE.  A  captive  balloon  which  somewhat  re- 
sembles a  sausage  in  form.  It  is  used  by  both 
sides  for  observation  purposes. 

SCARFE  MOUNTING.  A  rotary  mounting  on  which 
a  machine  gun  is  placed  and  used  by  a  gunner 
or  observer.  It  greatly  facilitates  the  handling 
of  a  gun  in  the  air. 

THE  SKIPPER.  The  Squadron  Commander  in  the 
Royal  Naval  Air  Service. 

SMOKE.  A  name  given  to  London,  England,  by 
Colonial  troops  on  account  of  the  heavy  mist 
and  smoke-like  fogs  which  cloak  it  the  greater 
part  of  the  year.    Usually  "Big  Smoke." 

SPAN.    The  length  of  wings  over  all. 

SPINNING.    A  stunt  with  a  machine  which  consists 
of  spinning  the  wings  around  the  axis  of  the 
machine  while  diving  nose  first  vertically. 
338 


APPENDIX 

STUNTS.  Loops,  spins  or  fancy  turns  made  in  the 
air. 

TAIL  PLANE.  A  section  of  plane  fastened  to  the  rear 
of  the  fussalage  which  it  holds  up. 

TAIL  SKID.  A  skid  made  of  wood  or  steel  tubing  or 
spring-steel  and  which  stops  the  tail  of  a  ma- 
chine from  resting  on  the  ground  when  not 
flying. 

TAKE  OFF.    The  getting  off  the  ground  of  a  machine. 

TAXI.    To  run  along  the  ground  on  one's  own  power. 

TENDER.  A  sort  of  light  motor  truck  used  in  the 
RoyaJ  Flying  Corps. 

THOW.    A  flying  man's  abbreviation  for  thousand. 

UNDERCARRIAGE.  The  landing  gear  of  a  flying 
machine,  same  word  being  sometimes  used  by 
the  birdman  when  referring  to  the  pedal  ex- 
tremities of  either  sex. 

WAR  HOUSE.  The  place  in  England  from  where  a 
great  part  of  the  war  is  run. 

WASSIN  BIRD.  A  French  flying  machine  of  the 
Voisin  t3^e. 

WIND  UP.     A  term  meaning  frightened. 

A  WOLF.  A  daredevil  pilot  who  stunts  near  the 
ground.    They  generally  last  about  a  month. 

ZOOM.  A  hurdle  into  the  air— not  to  be  practiced  by 
beginners. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 


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^1N?^ 


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m.ai 


IIP  12  196773 


)EP    2'67-12AM 

UOAN  DEPT. 

APR  11 1973      • 


3    m    3'T3-7Pli  9 


LD  21-lOOm-l, '54(1887816)476 


YB  21  U4 


393580 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


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